(and also a little about spiritual reading in general)
P. Gorazd Cetkovský O.Carm.
In the penultimate issue of the magazine, I mentioned in the article about John of Jenštejn how dear the book "The Imitation of Christ" was to Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Sister Milada from the Prague Carmelite Convent of St. Joseph is now delving into the topic of Saint Thérèse in detail (as evidenced by her work on Saint Thérèse's relationship with the Virgin Mary, which you can read in this year's issues of the Carmel magazine) and has additionally pointed out another passage from her Autobiographical writings. It turns out that Thérèse actually knew "The Imitation of Christ" by heart. Therefore, I would like to mention this passage from Thérèse's "thoughts on the graces that the Lord God granted her" (as she herself understood her autobiographical notes – cf. AS 17) as an additional supplement.
... I will speak of the nourishment that was lavished upon me "in abundance". Long ago, I fed on the "pure flour" contained in "The Imitation". It was the only book that suited me because I had not yet discovered the hidden treasures in the Gospel. I had almost memorized all the chapters of my dear "Imitation", this little book never left me. In summer, I carried it in my pocket, and in winter, in my sleeve. It became a tradition that at my aunt's house, they had great fun with it. They would open it at random and have me recite a chapter that caught their eye.1
Then Thérèse speaks about other books that came into her hands at that time: At 14 years old, in my desire for knowledge, the Lord God deemed it necessary to add to the "pure flour" honey and oil in abundance... (Ibid).
Thérèse shows how important it was for her – as a young girl – to develop her spiritual life through reading appropriate books. Classical asceticism uses the established term "spiritual reading" for such reading. In monasteries and seminaries, this activity regularly has a set place in the daily schedule. Similarly, priests and many lay faithful who live "in the world" also strive to "draw" in this way. Therefore, it is interesting for us to read further the paragraphs in which Thérèse describes the effects of spiritual reading on her soul and on the soul of her sister Celine. I will not quote anymore, just mention the points:
- spiritual reading ignited Thérèse's heart with enthusiasm,
- the two girls shared their enthusiasm in conversations, which transformed their blood sisterhood into spiritual sisterhood,
- it was then easier for them to practice virtues, to deny themselves, to grow in love.
In the excerpt I quoted in the article in the penultimate issue, Thérèse wrote that "The Imitation" is for her (besides the Gospel) a support even in moments of inner drought and incapacity. She referred to it as "solid and completely pure nourishment" (AS 170). As is even more evident from the excerpt we have cited above, her comparison of spiritual reading to food is inspired by chapter 16 of the book of the prophet Ezekiel. There, the Lord's care for His chosen people is depicted through the analogy of a girl, whom a noble man rescued compassionately like a discarded newborn, gave her life, chose her as his bride, and surrounded her with the best – including selected food: "You ate the food of fine flour, honey, and oil" (Ezek 16:13 – today's commonly used translation). We will encounter the image of God as the one who nourishes His chosen ones with life-giving food in other places of Sacred Scripture as well.
However, let us not overlook that both passages from the Autobiographical writings that mention the book "The Imitation" always emphasize the same characteristic of "spiritual nourishment" (which "The Imitation" means for Thérèse), namely purity: once she calls it "pure flour", and another time as "solid, completely pure nourishment". Does not the repetition of this expression invite us to reflect on what deeper meaning lies behind Thérèse's words?
I believe that what may come to mind first is our own exhausting experience with what – vain glory, despite promising recommendations of the respective book by priests, friends, or from elsewhere – does not nourish... Let us just admit openly to ourselves that we well know how tiring it is to read on and wait for the book to "catch" us, to fish out solitary nourishing pieces from the substantial volume of many pages, or (with another analogy) to clear a path through the thickets of complex thoughts and formulations. There are so many books and texts that, despite our best efforts, only wear us out, exhaust us, or even unsettle and confuse us... What bliss it is then to find what "fits" us! Not cheaply, but truly salvifically (after all, we are trying to be careful and discerning in this sense). What a happiness it is to find "solid and completely pure nourishment"!
However, I tend to find even more behind Thérèse's testimony: a challenge for us to contemplate how much we should seek new "foods" and how much we should repeatedly and faithfully return to the old, already proven ones. It is not about uncritically overemphasizing one or the other, but about examining a healthy balance in both: in handling old and new things. After all, if the world around us craves (in an effort to experience, dominate, and profit as much as possible) the constantly new, we too are certainly affected by that inclination more than we think, and we also behave similarly in spiritual matters. The result can easily be that we do not find the beneficial new without fully appreciating the old (still with the analogy of food: properly digesting it, drawing strength from it, receiving it repeatedly again). If Thérèse had approached "The Imitation of Christ" this way, if she had not read it repeatedly, she certainly would not have known it by heart.
Thérèse's joy from spiritual nourishment, which is pure, could also be viewed in the broader context of our order's tradition. Older Carmelite authors often emphasized that purity is a virtue deeply cherished in Carmel, that the vow of chastity is a summary and symbol of all spirituality of consecration in Carmel. This is not just about purity in the sense of integrity concerning the sixth commandment of the Decalogue. It is about a pure heart, the effort for complete surrender to God in love: "with all your strength, with all your mind, with all your might." Models of such purity for Carmelites are both the prophet Elijah and the Virgin Mary, whom the brothers have referred to since the Middle Ages as the Mother and Ornament of Carmel, Beauty. This is also mentioned by Sister Milada when she discusses the symbolism of Mary's protective mantle in her article about the relationship of St. Thérèse of Lisieux to the Virgin Mary.
But let us return to Thérèse's knowledge of "The Imitation of Christ". Thanks to the thorough processing of Thérèse's writings and their book publication in this elaborate form, it is very easy to find a list of references to "The Imitation" contained in Thérèse's writings and in her letters in the attached indexes. There are about fifty of these citations. Without proceeding with any scientific rigor, I would like to conclude this article simply by presenting several excerpts from the "golden book", specifically those to which Thérèse referred more often (multiple times) in her writings and letters. I will use the Czech translation of "The Imitation of Christ" by Josef Pernikář, published by the Christian Academy in Rome in 1969.
(On humbly knowing oneself – I, 2,3)
The greater and better knowledge you have, the more strictly you will be judged if you do not also live more holily. Do not exalt yourself by any skill or knowledge, but rather be in fear of what has been given to you to know.
When it seems to you that you know much and understand fairly well, realize that there is much more that you do not know. Do not be conceited, rather acknowledge your ignorance. Why should you elevate yourself above anyone when there are some who are even more learned and knowledgeable?
If you wish to know and learn something for your benefit, strive to be rather unknown and not regarded as anything.
(On how few are the lovers of Jesus' cross – II, 11,4)
Rarely does one find someone so spiritual as to be freed from all worldly things. For where shall we find a person truly simple-minded and detached from all creatures? He is as rare as from distant lands and the farthest ends of the earth. Even if one were to give away all his possessions, it is still nothing. Even if he made strict penance, it is still little. Even if he embraced all wisdom, he is still far from the goal. And even if he possessed great virtue and fervent piety, he still lacks much; namely that one thing that is most needed.
And what is that? To abandon everything, even himself; to step out of himself and retain not even the shadow of self-love. And when he performs all that he knows he must do, let him still hold that he has done nothing.
(On the wonderful effect of God's love – III, 5,4)
Whoever loves flies, runs, rejoices; he is free and nothing holds him back. He gives up everything for everything and has everything in everything; for he rests in the one who is the highest of all, from whom all good originates and arises. He does not look at gifts, but turns to the giver, who surpasses all goods.
Love often knows no measure, but rather flares up above all measure. Love does not feel the burden, pays no heed to effort; it wishes to accomplish more than its strength can bear; it does not make excuses for impossibility, for it believes it can do everything and is permitted to. Therefore, it is capable of everything, accomplishes much, and brings to fruition even where the non-loving grows weary and falls.
(On true freedom of spirit, which can be achieved more through humble prayer than through reading – III, 26,3)
My God, ineffable delight, turn into bitterness all earthly pleasure that draws me away from love for eternal things and dangerously lures me to itself with the promise of some temporal delight.
Let not my flesh and blood triumph over me, my God; let not the world and its fleeting glory triumph over me; let not the devil and his deceit overrun me. Grant me strength to resist, patience to endure, and steadfastness to persevere. Instead of all worldly pleasures, grant me the sweetest anointing of Your Spirit, and instead of bodily love, inspire me with love for Your name.
(On the desire for eternal life and the great reward promised to those who fight – III, 49,7)
Now, therefore, humbly bow before every authority and do not regard who is saying this or commanding you. But take great care to willingly accept and sincerely strive to fulfill all that anyone requests or wishes from you, whether it is a superior, a subordinate, or an equal.
Let one seek this and another that, let one boast of this and another of that, and let all gather countless praises; do not rejoice in this or that, but only in your own humility, in My pleasing and in My honor. And may your desire be to glorify God with your life and death always.
* * * * *
And thus, we – the Carmelite family in our nation – may celebrate the 600th anniversary of the death of the Prague Archbishop John of Jenštejn with astonishment at the mighty flow of the spiritual tradition throughout the history of the Church: a teaching simply articulated in "The Golden Book" of "The Imitation of Christ", whose roots extend back to the Augustinian monastery in Roudnice and formed part of the spiritual guidance that Archbishop John received here, after five centuries it produced as "solid, completely pure" spiritual nourishment a new fruit: in the Holy Carmelite Thérèse of Lisieux.
