Discusses the differences between union and rapture. Explains the nature of rapture and tells something about the good possessed by the soul that the Lord in His kindness brings to this prayer of rapture. Tells of its effects. There is much to marvel over.
ISHOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN, with God’s help, the difference there is between union and rapture, or, as they call it, elevation or flight of the spirit, or transport, which are all the same. I mean that these latter terms, though different, refer to the same thing; it is also called ecstasy.1 The advantage rapture has over union is great. The rapture produces much stronger effects and causes many other phenomena. Union seems the same at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end; and it takes place in the interior of the soul. But since these other phenomena are of a higher degree, they produce their effect both interiorly and exteriorly. May the Lord explain as He did for the other degrees. Certainly, if His Majesty had not given me an understanding of the manners and ways in which something could be said about them, I would not have known how to speak of them.
2. Let us consider now that the last water we spoke of2 is so plentiful that, if it were not for the fact that the earth doesn’t allow it, we could believe that this cloud of His great Majesty is with us here on earth. But when we thank Him for this wonderful blessing, responding with works according to our strength, the Lord gathers up the soul, let us say now, in the way the clouds gather up the earthly vapors3 and raises it completely out of itself. The cloud ascends to heaven and brings the soul along, and begins to show it the things of the kingdom that He prepared for it. I don’t know if this comparison is holding together, but the truth of the matter is that this is what happens.
3. In these raptures it seems that the soul is not animating the body. Thus there is a very strong feeling that the natural bodily heat is failing it. The body gradually grows cold, although this happens with the greatest ease and delight. At this stage there is no remedy that can be used to resist. In the union, since we are upon our earth, there is a remedy; though it may take pain and effort one can almost always resist. But in these raptures most often there is no remedy; rather, without any forethought or any help there frequently comes a force so swift and powerful that one sees and feels this cloud or mighty eagle raise it up and carry it aloft on its wings.
4. I say that one understands and sees oneself carried away and does not know where. Although this experience is delightful, our natural weakness causes fear in the beginning. It is necessary that the soul be resolute and courageous—much more so than for the prayer already described—in order to risk all, come what may, and abandon itself into the hands of God and go willingly wherever it is brought since, like it or not, one is taken away. So forceful is this enrapturing that very many times I wanted to resist and used all my energy, especially sometimes when it happened in public or other times when in secret and I was afraid of being deceived. At times I was able to accomplish something, but with a great loss of energy, as when someone fights with a giant and afterward is worn out. At other times it was impossible for me to resist, but it carried off my soul and usually, too, my head along with it, without my being able to hold back and sometimes the whole body until it was raised from the ground.
5. This latter has happened rarely. Once it happened when we were together in the choir ready to go up to receive Communion and while I was kneeling. I was very distressed because the experience seemed to me to be something most extraordinary and it would then become widely known. So I ordered the nuns—for this happened recently while I held the office of prioress—not to say anything about it. But at other times when I began to see the Lord was going to do the same (and once when there were some ladies of nobility present in order to hear a sermon, for it was our titular feast),4 I stretched out on the floor and the nuns came and held me down; nonetheless, this was seen. I begged the Lord very much not to give me any more favors that would involve any outward show, for I was tired of being considered so important—and His Majesty could grant me that favor without it being known. It seems in His goodness He was pleased to hear me because up to the present I have never had this experience again; true, I made this petition not so long ago.5
6. It seems to have happened that when I desired to resist them, such great powers raised me up from the very soles of my feet that I don’t know what to compare these powers to; they were much greater than in the other spiritual experiences—and so I was worn out. The struggle is a fierce one, and in the end struggle is of little avail against the Lord’s desire; there is no power against His power. At other times He is pleased that we see He desires to grant us the favor and that nothing is lacking on His Majesty’s part; and when we resist out of humility, the very same effects are left in the soul that would be left if it were to give complete consent.
7. In those to whom this experience happens, the effects are remarkable. First, there is a manifestation of the tremendous power of the Lord and of how we are incapable, when His Majesty desires, of holding back the body any more than the soul, nor are we its master. Rather, whether or not we wish, we see that there is one who is superior, that these favors are given by Him, and that of ourselves we can do absolutely nothing; deep humility is impressed upon the soul. Yet I confess that the favor greatly frightened me; at first the fear is extreme. When one sees one’s body so elevated from the ground that even though the spirit carries it along after itself, and does so very gently if one does not resist, one’s feelings are not lost. At least I was conscious in such a way that I could understand I was being elevated. There is revealed a majesty about the One who can do this that makes a person’s hair stand on edge, and there remains a strong fear of offending so awesome a God. Yet such fear is accompanied by a very great love for Him, which grows ever deeper upon considering what He does to so rotten a worm. It doesn’t seem He is satisfied in truly bringing the soul to Himself, but it seems He desires the body even though it is mortal and, on account of the many offenses it has committed, made of such foul clay.
8. The experience also leaves a rare detachment, which I am unable to describe. It seems to me that I can say the prayer is in a certain way different. I mean that more than spiritual things alone are involved. For now that the spirit is completely detached from things, it seems in this prayer that the Lord wants to effect this detachment in the body itself, and there is brought about a new estrangement from earthly things that makes life much more arduous.
9. Afterward there is a painful experience that we cannot produce ourselves, nor once it is felt can we put it aside. I should like so much to explain this deep pain. I believe I’ll be unable to do so, but I’ll try to say something. It should be noted that these experiences occur much later than all the visions and revelations I shall write of.6 The time I used to spend in a prayer in which the Lord gave me such great consolations and gifts—even though these are not completely absent—is now usually spent in this painful prayer I shall speak of. It is sometimes more intense, sometimes less intense. I want to speak now of when it is more intense. For although I shall speak afterward7 of those great loving impulses that I experienced when the Lord desired to give me raptures, those impulses are no more, in my opinion, than something that is very corporeal when compared to something very spiritual—and I don’t think I’m greatly exaggerating. For in the pain that is experienced in those impulses, the body feels it along with the soul, and both seem to have a share in it; there is not as extreme a desolation as is felt in this pain. In receiving this pain, as I said, we play no active role, but often a desire comes unexpectedly in a way I don’t understand. With this desire, which penetrates the whole soul at once, the soul begins to grow so weary that it ascends far above itself and all creatures. God places it in a desert so distant from all things that, however, much it labors, it doesn’t find a creature on earth that might accompany it—nor would it want to find one; it desires only to die in that solitude. That someone speak to it—and it wants to make every effort possible to speak—is of little avail since the spirit, no matter how much the soul tries, does not leave that solitude. And when it seems to me that God is then exceedingly far away, He at times communicates His grandeurs in the most strange manner thinkable. So one doesn’t know how to speak of this communication, nor do I think anyone will believe me or understand it unless they have experienced it themselves. This communication is given not to console but to show the reason the soul has for becoming weary in the absence of a blessing that in itself contains all blessings.
10. With this communication the desire increases and also the extreme sense of solitude in which, even though the soul is in that desert, it sees with a pain so delicate and penetrating that it can, I think, literally say: Vigilavi, et factus sum sicut passer solitarius in tecto.8 (And perhaps the royal prophet said it while being in the same solitude, although since he was a saint the Lord would have given him this experience in a more intense way.) Hence this verse then came to mind, for I think I saw it realized in myself. It consoled me to know that other persons—and such great ones—had experienced so extreme a solitude. Thus it seems that the soul is not in itself, but on the roof or housetop of itself and of all created things because it seems to me to be even above the very superior part of the soul.
11. At other times it seems the soul goes about as though compelled to say and ask itself: where is your God?9 It is interesting to note that I didn’t know what the vernacular of this verse was; after I understood it, I was consoled to see that the Lord had brought it to my mind without my having played any part in the matter. At other times I recalled what St. Paul says, that he is crucified to the world.10 I am not saying that these words apply here; I realize they don’t. But it seems to me that the soul is crucified since no consolation comes to it from heaven, nor is it in heaven; neither does it desire any from earth, nor is it on earth. Receiving no help from either side, it is as though crucified between heaven and earth. That which comes from heaven (which, as I said,11 is so admirable a knowledge of God, very far above every desirable thing) causes more torment because the desire increases in such a way that, in my opinion, the intense pain sometimes takes away sensory consciousness; but this intensity lasts only a short time. The experience resembles the death agony with the difference that the suffering bears along with it such great happiness that I don’t know what to compare it to. It is an arduous, delightful martyrdom since it admits no earthly thing representable to the soul, even if this be what is usually more pleasing to it. The soul, it seems, immediately hurls such things from itself. It clearly understands that it desires only its God. It doesn’t love any particular aspect of Him, but loves Him all together and knows not what it loves. I say it “knows not” because the imagination doesn’t represent anything; nor, in my opinion, do the faculties function during much of the time that this takes place. Just as it is joy that suspends the faculties in union and rapture, so it is pain that suspends them here.
12. O Jesus! Who could give a good explanation of this prayer to Your Reverence so that you could explain it to me? It is what my soul is now always experiencing. Usually when unoccupied it is placed in the midst of these anxious longings for death; and when it sees they are beginning, it fears that it will not die. But once in the midst of them, it would desire to spend the remainder of its life in this suffering, even though the suffering is so excessive a person cannot endure it. Sometimes my pulse almost stops, according to what a number of the sisters say who at times are near me and know more, and my arms are straight and my hands so stiff that occasionally I cannot join them. As a result, even the next day I feel pain in the pulse and in the body, as if the bones were disjoined.
13. I sometimes really think that if this prayer continues as it does now, the Lord would be served if my life came to an end. In my opinion, a pain as great as this is sufficient to put an end to life, but I don’t merit death. All my longing then is to die; nor do I think about purgatory or of the great sins I’ve committed by which I’ve merited hell. I am oblivious of everything in that anxious longing to see God; that desert and solitude seem to the soul better than all the companionship of the world. If anything could give the soul consolation, it would be to speak to someone who had suffered this torment.
14. It is also a torment for the soul to see that even though it complains no one, seemingly, will believe it. This pain is so intense that the soul would not want solitude as before, nor would it want companionship with anyone other than one to whom it can complain. It is like a person suffocating with a rope around the neck and seeking to find relief. So it seems to me that this desire for companionship comes from our weakness, for the pain places us in danger of death. (Yes, this is what it certainly does. I have at times on account of my great illnesses and crises been in peril of death, as I mentioned;12 and I believe it can be said that this danger is as great as all the others.) As a result, the desire the body and the soul have of not being separated is what makes one beg help in order to get relief. By speaking and complaining of the pain and by distracting itself, the soul seeks a remedy so as to live—much against the will of the spirit, or of its superior part, which would not want to break away from this pain.
15. I don’t know if I’m meeting with success in what I’m saying or if I know how to say it, but in my firm opinion this is what happens. See, Your Reverence, what rest the soul can have in this life. That rest that it had—which was prayer and solitude, because through these the Lord comforted me—now usually consists of this torment. Yet the torment is so pleasing and seen to be so valuable that now the soul desires this more than all the favors previously experienced. The experience seems safer because it follows the way of the cross. It contains in itself a very precious consolation, in my opinion; the body shares only in the pain, and it is the soul alone that both suffers and rejoices on account of the joy and satisfaction the suffering gives. I don’t know how this can happen, but it does. In my opinion, I would not trade this gift the Lord grants me (which comes from His hand and, as I said,13 is in no way acquired by me, because it is very, very supernatural) for all those I shall speak of afterward. I don’t mean all those gifts taken together, but taken one by one. It must not be forgotten that this experience of pain comes after all those favors that are written of in this book, and it is what the Lord now grants me.14
16. When I was afraid in the beginning (as happens to me in the case of almost every gift the Lord gives me until His Majesty assures me as I make progress), the Lord told me not to fear and to esteem this gift more than all the others He had granted me. In this pain the soul is purified and fashioned or purged like gold in the crucible so that the enameled gifts might be placed there in a better way, and in this prayer it is purged of what otherwise it would have to be purged of in purgatory.
I clearly understood that it was a great favor, but I was left with much more assurance—and my confessor tells me that it is good. Although, since I am so wretched, I was afraid, I was never able to believe that it was bad; on the contrary, so abundant a blessing caused me fear when I remembered how poorly I merited it. Blessed be the Lord who is so good. Amen.
17. It seems I’ve gone off the subject because I began to speak of raptures;15 this that I have been speaking about is more than rapture, and so it leaves the effects I mentioned.
18. Now let us return to raptures and speak of what is more common in them. I say that often, it seemed to me, the body was left so light that all its weight was gone, and sometimes this feeling reached such a point that I almost didn’t know how to put my feet on the ground. Now when the body is in rapture it is as though dead, frequently being unable to do anything of itself. It remains in the position it was when seized by the rapture, whether standing or sitting, or whether with the hands opened or closed. Although once in a while the senses fail (sometimes it happened to me that they failed completely), this occurs rarely and for only a short time. But ordinarily the soul is disoriented. Even though it can’t do anything of itself with regard to exterior things, it doesn’t fail to understand and hear as though it were listening to something coming from far off. I do not say that it hears and understands when it is at the height of the rapture (I say “height” to refer to the times when the faculties are lost to other things because of their intense union with God), for then, in my opinion, it neither sees, nor hears, nor feels. But as I said in speaking of the previous prayer of union;16 this complete transformation of the soul in God lasts only a short time; but while it lasts no faculty is felt, nor does the soul know what is happening in this prayer. Perhaps it doesn’t know this because God doesn’t want us to understand this while on earth; He knows we are incapable of doing so. I have seen this for myself.
19. Your Reverence will ask how it is that the rapture sometimes lasts so many hours and occurs so often. What happens in my case, as I said in speaking of the previous prayer, is that the rapture is experienced at intervals. The soul is often absorbed or, to put it better, the Lord absorbs it in Himself suspending all the faculties for a while and then, afterward, holding only the will suspended. It seems to me that the activity of these other two faculties is like that of the little pointer on the sundial that never stops. But when the Sun of justice wants to, He makes the faculties stop. This suspension of the two faculties, I say, is brief. But since the loving impulse and elevation of the spirit was great, the will remains absorbed—even though these return to their noisy way—and, like the lord over all, causes those effects in the body.17 Although the other two restless faculties desire to hinder it, they are the only enemies because the sense faculties do not hinder it. The will causes these sense faculties to be suspended because the Lord desires it so. For most of the time the eyes are closed even though we may not desire to close them; and if they are sometimes open, as I have already mentioned,18 the soul doesn’t notice or advert to what it sees.
20. What it can do through its own power is much less in this prayer; and when the two faculties are again suspended in the union, there isn’t much to do. For this reason whoever receives this favor from the Lord should not become disconsolate on seeing that the body is so bound for many hours and the intellect and the memory sometimes distracted. True, these faculties are ordinarily absorbed in the praises of God or in desiring to comprehend and understand what they have undergone—and even for this they are not fully awake but are like a person who has slept and dreamed for a long while and still hasn’t completely awakened.
21. I’m explaining this at such length because I know that there are now, even in this place,19 persons to whom the Lord grants these favors. If those who guide them have not gone through this themselves, it may perhaps seem to these guides, especially if they aren’t learned men, that these persons are as though dead during the rapture. And, as I shall say afterward;20 what these persons suffer when their confessors do not understand them is a pity. Perhaps I don’t know what I’m talking about. Your Reverence will understand whether I succeed in explaining myself since the Lord has already given you experience of this rapture although since you haven’t been experiencing it for a long time, perhaps you haven’t observed it as much as I have.
Thus, however hard I try to stir, there is not strength enough in the body for a good while to be able to do so; the soul carries off with it all this strength. Frequently the body is made healthy and stronger—for it was really sick and full of great sufferings because something wonderful is given to it in that prayer. The Lord sometimes desires, as I say, that the body enjoy it since the body is now obedient to what the soul desires. After the soul returns to itself—if the rapture has been intense—it goes about for a day or two, or even three, with the faculties absorbed or as though stupefied; it seems to be outside itself.
22. From this prayer comes the pain of having to return to everyday life; in this prayer wings sprout enabling one to fly with ease; the fledgling has shed its down; in this prayer Christ’s banner is now completely raised. It seems just as though the custodian of this fortress climbs, or is taken up, to the highest tower to raise the banner for God. He looks at those below as one who is out of danger. He no longer fears dangers but rather desires them as someone who in a certain manner receives assurance there of victory. In it the soul sees very clearly how little everything here below should be esteemed and the trifle that it is. Whoever stands upon a height sees many things. The soul no longer wants to desire, nor would it want to have free will—and this is what I beg the Lord. It gives Him the keys of its will.
Behold now the gardener is raised to the position of custodian. He desires to do nothing but the will of the Lord; nor does he want to be lord of himself or of anything—not even of a pear tree in this garden. If there is something good in the garden, His Majesty distributes it. From here on the soul desires nothing for itself; it wants its actions to be in complete conformity with His glory and His will.
23. And the truth of the matter is that if the raptures are authentic, all of this takes place; the soul receives the effects and benefits that were mentioned. If these effects are not present, I would greatly doubt that the raptures come from God; on the contrary, I would fear lest they be caused by the rabies, as St. Vincent observed.21 I understand and have seen through experience that after an hour or less the soul is left with such freedom and dominion over all things that it doesn’t know itself. It sees clearly that the good effects don’t belong to it. It doesn’t know how so much good was given it, but it well understands the tremendous benefit that each of these raptures bears with it. There is no one who believes this if they haven’t experienced it. Thus they don’t believe the poor soul, because they have seen its wretchedness—and now so quickly see it strive after things demanding such courage. For soon the soul becomes obsessed with serving the Lord not just a little but as much as it can. They think this is a temptation and foolishness. Were they to understand that these desires don’t spring from the soul but from the Lord to whom it has given the keys of its will, they wouldn’t be surprised.
24. I have the opinion that a soul that reaches this state no longer speaks or does anything for itself. This sovereign King takes care of all that it has to do. Oh, God help me, how clearly the meaning of the psalm is seen here; and how right are all those who long for the wings of a dove!22 It is clearly understood that the flight is given to the spirit so that it may be elevated above every creature—and above itself first of all. The flight is an easy flight, a delightful one, a flight without noise.
25. How great is the dominion of that soul brought here by the Lord; it beholds everything without being ensnared! How ashamed it feels of the time when it was ensnared! How frightened of its blindness! What pity it feels for those who are still in this blindness, especially if they are persons of prayer whom God already favors! It would want to cry out in order to make known how deceived they are—sometimes it even does so, and a thousand persecutions rain down upon its head. They consider this person lacking in humility, especially if she is a woman, and point out that she desires to teach the one from whom she should be learning. As a result they condemn this soul—and with reason—because they don’t know the loving impulse that moves it. For at times the soul can’t help but disillusion—nor endure not disillusioning—those whom it loves and desires to see freed from the prison of this life, since the life that it formerly lived was nothing else than a prisoner’s life; nor does it seem to it to have been anything else than that.
26. It deplores the time in which it was concerned about its reputation and deplores the deception it suffered in believing that what the world called honor was honor. It sees how this belief about honor is the greatest lie and that all of us are involved in it. It understands that authentic honor stands not with falsehood but with truth, judging what is something to be something, and what is nothing to be nothing, since everything that comes to an end is nothing and less than nothing and is not pleasing to God.
27. The soul laughs to itself over the time when it esteemed money and coveted it, although in this matter of coveting money, I don’t think I ever—and this is true—confessed a fault; but it was fault enough to have esteemed it. If with money I could have bought the good I now see in myself, I would have esteemed it highly; but I see that this good is won by giving up everything. What is it we buy with this money we desire? Is it something valuable? Is it something lasting? Oh, why do we desire it? Miserable is the rest achieved that costs so dearly. Frequently one obtains hell with money and buys everlasting fire and pain without end. Oh, if everyone would consider it unprofitable dirt, how harmoniously would the world proceed, how many lawsuits would be avoided! What friendship there would be among all if there were no self-interest about honor and money! I think this absence of self-interest would solve all problems.
28. The soul sees such great blindness in pleasures and how with them one buys trouble—even for this life—and worry. What restlessness! What little happiness! What vain labor! In this prayer it sees not only serious faults and cobwebs in its soul but any speck of dust no matter how small because the sun is very bright. And so, no matter how much a soul labors to become perfect, if this Sun truly takes hold of it, everything is seen as very turbid. The soul is like water in a glass: the water looks very clear if the sun doesn’t shine on it; but when the sun shines on it, it seems to be full of dust particles. This comparison is an exact one. Before being in this ecstasy the soul thinks it is careful about not offending God and that it is doing what it can in conformity with its strength. But once it is brought into prayer, which this Sun of justice bestows on it and which opens its eyes, it sees so many dust particles that it would want to close its eyes again. It is not yet so much a child of this powerful eagle that it can gaze steadily at this sun. But for the little time that it holds its eyes open, it sees that it is itself filled with mud. It recalls the psalm that says: Who will be just in Your Presence?23
29. When it beholds this divine Sun, the brightness dazzles it; when it looks at itself, the mud covers its eyes; blind is this little dove. So, very frequently, it is left totally blind, absorbed, frightened, and in a swoon from the many grandeurs that it sees. In this stage true humility is gained so that the soul doesn’t care at all about saying good things of itself, nor that others say them. The Lord, not the soul, distributes the fruit of the garden, and so nothing sticks to its hands. All the good it possesses is directed to God; if it says something about itself, it does so for God’s glory. It knows that it owns nothing in the garden; and even should it desire to ignore this truth, it can’t. Whether it wants to or not, it sees with its own eyes that the Lord makes it close them to all the things of the world so that it may keep them open for the understanding of truths.