CHAPTER XXII

On Wings of Contemplation, Gemma rises to Divine Love’s Summit

IN THE Foregoing CHAPTER we have treated of contemplation in general, without distinguishing the different degrees by which the soul ascends to its perfection. These degrees or grades as determined by theologians may be reduced to nine, and are named differently according to their results. And as contemplation is the soul of the mystic life and this is centered in Divine Love and union with the Infinite Good, to every degree of contemplation from the lowest to the highest there corresponds a distinct degree of love and union. The highest degree is that of perfect charity which is called the mystic espousal of the soul with God.

In the present CHAPTER I shall have to allude to these degrees one by one in order to show how this favored servant of God passed through them all, thus deserving the glorious title of Seraphic Virgin. The subject is not easy, and I confess I feel nervous about it. Human language can but poorly explain such sublime things; how then is one to succeed in making himself intelligible to the general reader, as mystic theology is little less than an enigma to the majority at the present day, even among Catholics? However I will try, encouraged by the thought that I have not got to prepare the matter, but that Gemma herself will present it in perfect order. In her own simple and expressive words she will make known and give us to understand the hidden things that grace wrought in her soul.

The first degree of contemplation is that called Mystic Recollection, which consists in an extraordinary light by means of which God communicates Himself of a sudden to the intellect, wholly absorbs it, and by its reaction on the interior and exterior senses this light concentrates them, quiets them, and holds them sweetly in attendance on the soul. It is not ecstasy, which suspends the use of the senses, but it is a gentle attraction that, causing forgetfulness of all else inclines one’s whole being towards the Infinite Good, as, in the words of St. Francis of Sales, the magnet attracts the needle placed near it. The very members of the body put themselves in an attitude of recollection and remain immovable as long as the soul is visited by that unexpected light. That this grace was truly vouchsafed by God to Gemma is evident from what we have already seen in the preceding chapter, and I do not repeat it, as I wish to speak here only of the love and union that in her corresponded to this first degree of contemplation.

Doubtless, to see God by means of an infused supernatural light, feel oneself in His presence with all the faculties of the soul, and not taste His sweetness, not love Him, not unite oneself to Him would be impossible; at least so it was with Gemma. And as from her earliest years she was favored by God with this first degree, she began then to feel herself united to Him by a sweet attraction, and to love Him alone with tenderest affection. And has she not often assured us of this herself?

“No, don’t speak to me of anything else,” she would say; “He alone is enough for me, and I wish for Him only. You know O Jesus, that I love no other outside Thee. Tear me in pieces, but leave me Jesus and I shall be content.”

In sacred writ we are told how sweet and meek is Our God, and that it is enough to see and taste Him only once to be captivated by Him. What then must not have happened to Gemma who not only once but continually was illumined by God with those clear and strong lights of contemplation, and made partaker of the Divine Sweetness of His presence? We must say that she was as a spouse wounded with love, who living for no other than her Celestial Spouse kept her mind, heart, senses and whole being reserved for and intent on Him, and with the Royal Prophet kept exclaiming: “For what have I in heaven? And besides Thee what do I desire upon earth? For Thee my flesh and my heart have fainted away; You art the God of my heart, and the God that is my portion for ever.”

And it was quite enough to glance at her, at any time or place, to feel convinced that in the depth of her heart those acts of love were being ceaselessly repeated. And how much more did not this become evident when anyone succeeded in getting into conversation with her?

Her words were few, concise and full of fire; “Oh,” she was heard to exclaim, “if all were to know how beautiful Jesus is, how amiable He is! They would all die of love. And yet how comes it that He is so little loved? Oh! it is time lost, to be with creatures! Our heart is made to love one thing only, Our Great God.” And after having said some such words as these she immediately re-entered into herself, and was lost in her habitual recollection.

The second degree of contemplation and of love is the Spiritual Silence, so called because in it the soul illuminated by a stronger light than in the preceding degree, and by more deliciously sweet attractions, is held riveted in astonishment before the Majesty of the Lord, not daring to address Him, but only to love Him while remaining enraptured in His Love. The imagination itself wonder-stricken at what it experiences abstains from every act that may disturb the sweet peace reigning in the intellectual faculties; the soul is in silence while God is allowing her to taste delights of Paradise.

In Gemma’s case this more perfect degree of contemplation and loving union alternated very often with the first; and while in this state of mystic recollection she treated with her God, listening to and addressing Him in acts of gratitude, humility, etc., all of a sudden, as the force of the Divine Light increased, illuminating and attracting her, she became enraptured and motionless; again after a little she returned as at first to affectionate outpourings. This change was visible in her exterior while in prayer; for while in the first degree the various movements of her soul were partially depicted on her countenance, in the second her face remained unchanged.

Once when she was giving me an account of this degree of prayer, she said: “I have been in the presence of Jesus; I said nothing to Him, and He said nothing to me; we both remained in silence; I looked at Him and He looked at me. But if you only knew, father, how delightful it is to be thus in the presence of Jesus! Have you ever experienced it? You would wish it were never to end. But then, all in an instant Jesus says: ‘Enough’—and that Light disappears. But the heart, you know, does not grow cold so quickly.”

And that heart within the breast of God’s servant most assuredly did not grow cold. Nay, although she ceased from the act of contemplation, which in the less perfect degree is always of short duration, still the flame continued to consume at least in part for a long time. One would not be wanting in truth who would assert, as I believe I am entitled to assert, that the habit contracted by this holy girl of remaining silent during the course of the day in an uninterrupted recollection, was the result of the frequent recurrence of that supernatural silence in which God placed her contemplation. Doubtless with her great ardor of soul, and the constant thought of the Infinite Beauty that she was so often called to contemplate she must have had little wish to stay talking to creatures.

The soul now accustomed to remaining in spiritual silence in the Divine Presence, and to the enjoyment of Its sweetness, is quite disposed to pass to the third degree of Mystic progress, which is the Contemplation of Quiet. It consists in a more intimate and almost habitual union with God based on a vivid sentiment of His Divine Presence. Hence results a great spiritual peace that keeps the soul in tranquil repose. Its faculties do not remain suspended while in this state; on the contrary; once it has become habituated to this degree of prayer by frequent experience, it can occupy itself in organizing works to please and glorify Our Lord without being in the least distracted from the Divine Presence. Then are seen in the soul the parts both of Magdalene and Martha wonderfully represented and united; the first in contemplation enjoying delights at the feet of Our Savior; the second working for Him. Thus it was with Gemma, who reached this degree of Mystic perfection nearly three years before her death. The external habitual recollection that we have wondered at and admired in her is a proof of the first of the aforesaid prerogatives in an eminent degree.

The readiness and energy by which she was moved in the practice of virtue to please that God she so loved, her zeal for the salvation of souls, with the assiduous prayers and penances that she offered for the conversion of sinners, and the fervor with which she took part in good works, all assure us of the second.

The example of this happy girl shows us by contrast how certain souls deceive themselves, who as soon as they begin to taste some sweetness in the above—mentioned prayer of Quiet, would wish always to remain alone, always in Church, always in search of confessors and directors, neglecting meanwhile the duties which their state of life require of them. It is impossible, as the Mystic Doctor Scaramelli rightly says, for these souls to make any seriously steady advancement in the interior ways of the Spirit.

I shall have to devote a special CHAPTER to the subject of Our New Martha’s singular material activity, and I must refer my readers to it so as to speak here only of the repose of Magdalene and its marvelous fruits. Listen to Gemma’s words:

“As long as I had so many desires my soul was without rest; now that I have only one, I am happy. But let me act, O Jesus. Though Thy love be inaccessible, I will see to it, I will reach it. Here Jesus, here in my heart, I will raise Thee a pavilion all of love. You alone must enter into it. I will keep Thee always with me; always here a prisoner. I won’t leave Thee any more liberty; no, not until You hast given me the consolation I so long for. And what do I so long for, and what do I ask Thee for, O Jesus? Ah! You see it; in that we are agreed; I ask Thee for that which You Thyself will, and desire that which You Thyself desire.” Is not this effusion of love supernaturally sublime? What I have here said of the third degree will do for the present, as I must return shortly to speak of Gemma’s abandonment, peace, tranquility of spirit, and loss of self in God.

The Mystic Sleep, fourth degree of union, is allied to the preceding degree of Quiet, but is more perfect. The difference consists in this, that the Mystic Quiet is caused by the celestial light making the soul feel and taste in delicious calm the presence of God, whereas the sleep is caused by love which by its soothing influence on the soul, together with all her intellectual and sensitive faculties, lulls her to sleep and tranquil repose in the bosom of God. In this state the soul knows to a certainty, but without reflection, that she ardently loves her God. It is enough for her to love, caring for nothing else, and even not knowing how this state of happiness has come about; because she sleeps and is lost in God.

The Seraph of Lucca was enriched with this gift shortly before she was raised to the much more eminent degree of the ecstatic union. God gave it to her frequently, and for a considerable period, even several times a day. And as in this state the external senses are asleep, she was easily discovered while thus absorbed either standing, seated, on her knees or lying down. She then seemed to be asleep, and used the term “sleep” when referring to the mysterious phenomenon. But her heart was not asleep although her mind was quite alienated from everything, even from itself. When she returned to herself she knew not what to say, except that she had been in the bosom of God.

“Imagine a baby,” she once said, “In her mother’s arms asleep. She is then forgetful of herself and of everything else. She thinks of nothing and only rests and sleeps, not even knowing how or why. That is the way with my soul during this time. But believe me, father, it is a most sweet sleep.”

Wishing however to thoroughly satisfy myself regarding her, by a practical trial, and also to mortify her, I said to her once that such a sleep in the daytime seemed to me a mere act of sloth, and told her to desist from it. Strange to say, although in this entirely supernatural sleep the human will can do nothing—neither enter into it, nor come out of it, nor in any way hinder its happening—Gemma besought Our Lord to make her obey and He did so; the mystic phenomenon never happened again. But instead, another of a far higher order was very soon manifested in her; no doubt in reward of her goodwill and obedience. It was that of the ecstatic union which I must treat of in a special chapter.

“You see,” the simple child said to me, “Jesus has made me obey, and I have not slept any more; now you will be satisfied, and you won’t be displeased with me if again I happen to give you some annoyance. I will be good and do what you tell me.” And these are facts in which it is quite evident artifice has no part.

Placed in the midst of so many flames, and so close to that ardent furnace which is the bosom of God, it is easy to understand how the favored soul cannot always sleep, nor always repose tranquilly. The very sleep itself and repose must inflame it more, and rouse it now and then from its rest, by exciting in the heart almost a delirium of love.

Theologians call these loving impulses Spiritual Inebriety, which, when clearly proved to be supernatural, constitutes one of the mystic grades more or less perfect in particular cases than the degrees already named. In this state the soul would fain exhaust itself in praising the Lord and making its voice heard to the ends of the earth, to induce all men to glorify Him and love Him. It would wish to suffer great things to please God, and would undertake everything for Him. Those who have read the Psalms of Holy King David, and the lives of St Francis of Assisi, St Teresa, St Mary Magdalene of Pazzi and other Saints equally favored by God will understand what is meant by this divine inebriety.

Gemma too experienced it, as is made known by the words she spoke and wrote while in that state; on one or two occasions only was she seen to give vent externally in positive acts, nervous words and earnest gestures. One would almost have said that Divine Grace wished thus to respect that modest reserve so carefully practiced by this humble girl. Even during the most burning overflow of her heart’s love while in this state, she knew how to contain herself, and all the external commotion seen in her (on the few occasions that this phenomenon was witnessed) reduced itself to some slight acts of exuberant joy and loving yearnings that yet were very moderate and full of dignity. Feeling that she had all Paradise in her heart, she made sign to those around her to come near and place their hands upon it, so that they also might be assured of it, and then exclaimed: “Oh God! Oh Love! Oh Paradise!”

Apart from these few exceptions of external manifestation, the spiritual inebriety of this seraphic girl was indeed perceptible, but mainly confined to her soul; so that her state of ineffable bliss then only became known through the radiance of her countenance and the accents like darts of fire that came from her heart. Listen to her words: “The snares of Thy Love, my God, are so strong, that I cannot get out of them. Set me free, give me full liberty; I will love Thee everywhere; I will seek Thee always. Oh whatever hast You done, Jesus, oh what hast You done to my poor heart that makes it incessantly so yearn for Thee? Ah! would O Jesus that my voice could reach all the bounds of the earth; I would call all sinners and tell them all to come into Thy Heart. Oh! if all poor sinners were to come into this Heart! Come, come, sinners, don’t be afraid; the sword of Justice will not reach you here. Ah! I cannot bear it. I must give vent, I must sing, I must exult. In created Love for ever! Heart of my Jesus for ever!”

These and such-like outbursts of exuberant love were the most frequently repeated during Gemma’s ecstasies, and they often came from her pen when writing. Here is an instance of this from one of her letters:

“I have such a great longing to fly away to my God! Oh if I could but hear from you, father. For days Jesus has been making me a victim of Love; He is making me die, ah! only of Love. . . . What a precious death! I am not quieted if Jesus does not inflame me a little with His Love that I may be consumed in Him. I would have my heart become ashes, that all should say: Gemma has been burned to ashes for Jesus.”

Let not the reader imagine that this degree of union is less estimable because the senses take part in it, inasmuch as that which the senses here make manifest is nothing more than an overflow of the inner joy of the soul produced by the torrent of light with which the Holy Spirit inundates the mind, and by the love that He excites in the heart.

Sometimes also this overflow is so great, that pouring like a torrent of fire into the purely material heart, it inflames it in a most extraordinary way. And this ardor, understood as above explained, constitutes a sixth degree of perfection called by mystics the Flame of Love. In the seraphic Virgin of Lucca this flame was so intense, that if it had continued for more than the two or three months that it lasted, her heart would have been consumed in her breast. I am not narrating fables; but real facts that have been verified. Her heart was like a furnace; and the hand could not approach it without feeling it burn, even though it were outside the clothing.

Wishing to make quite certain of this, I gave an order to the lady who looked after her, to examine it during her ecstasy; and, wonderful to relate, the whole of the skin over the region of the heart was found, on several occasions, to be burned, just as if red-hot coals had been applied to it. This mysterious phenomenon. lasted during the time I have already mentioned, and when it ceased, the marks of burning and the cicatrix caused by it remained for a long time. Let Gemma herself describe this phenomenon to us:

“For the last eight days I have felt something mysterious in the region of my heart, that I cannot understand. The first days I disregarded it, because it gave me little or no trouble. But today is the third day that this fire has increased. Oh so much, as to be almost unbearable. I should need ice to put it out, and it hinders my sleeping and eating. It is a mysterious fire that comes from within to the outside. It is however a fire that does not torment me; rather it delights me; but it exhausts and consumes me. Jesus, father, will have made you understand all about it. Great God! How I love Thee, O how I love Thee!”

When I questioned her about it, Gemma herself had to acknowledge that the suffering she felt from this mysterious her, although it was a joy to her, was really very painful. She said to me: “In order to form an idea of it, imagine that into the very center of this poor heart a red-hot iron, kept constantly heated in a furnace, has been introduced; thus I feel myself burning.”

And yet she would not have exchanged this excruciating torture for all the delights of the world. For while she thus suffered in her body the sweetness it caused in the depths of her soul was truly beyond all description. Hence rapt in ecstasy she exclaimed:

“You art on fire, Lord, and I burn. O pain, O infinitely happy Love! O sweet fire! O sweet flames! And wouldst You have my heart become a flame? Ah! I have found the flame that destroys and reduces to ashes! Ah! cease, cease, I cannot withdraw my heart from so much fire. What do I say! No; rather come Jesus; I will open my heart to Thee; put Thy Divine fire into it. You art Flame, and let my heart be turned into flame.”

At other times, as if she had never had such experience she kept saying with restless yearning: “Oh what is this great fire that I feel within me? Are they the flames of Thy love O Jesus? Yes they are the flames of Thy love.”

It was by these outpourings of love that she sought some vent for the inner flames that were consuming her “Poor Gemma!” thus wrote the lady who adopted her, “how she suffers! She is consumed with love for Jesus; she is continually saying that she feels herself burning, but does not see the fire; that she feels herself tightly bound but does not see the chains that bind her. Ah! if you but heard what bursts of love, what expressions come from her lips when she is in ecstasy!”

I would like to be able to write one by one the expressions that it has been possible to collect in great numbers from her lips and pen; but that is not allowed me now. Even during the withdrawal of spiritual consolation the ardor of her spirit found a new impulse; nay, it then impelled her all the more. In one of her ecstasies she was thus heard to lament and exclaim:

“What peace, what quiet, even though You hide Thyself! Yes, Jesus, even keep far from me if You wilt; enough for me that Thy love does not fail me. Set me on fire. Thy Love is enough for me. I would that all were to say, that Thy love has consumed me. Love! Love! But I want to come to Thee.”

Again, becoming still more daring, impelled by the Love that burned within her soul she exclaimed: “Why didst You show me so much love at first, and then leave me so desolate? It is my love for Thee, Jesus, that makes me speak thus. But if You do not return, my God, I shall die. O Jesus, sustain me; let everything fail me, but not Thy love; then fly from me as much as You wilt.”

Our holy father St. Paul of the Cross, who also experienced this degree of burning love, used to exclaim: “I feel my entrails patched, I thirst and want to drink; but to extinguish this burning I would wish to drink torrents of fire.” Whoever has tasted of the sweetness of Divine Love must feel and speak thus; for when the fire of charity comes to this, it can no longer contain itself. The Spouse of our souls, Jesus Christ Himself, first gave us an example of this when, satiated with sorrow and love on the Cross, in agonized accents He exclaimed: “I thirst”—whence Mystic theologians have come to call the next or seventh degree of Mystic Union the Thirst and Anguish of love.

Father Scaramelli gives the following definition of it: “The anguishes of love are a living and ardent desire of God, loved and tasted, but not yet possessed by the Soul. The continuance or duration of these pangs which form and establish themselves, so to say, in the very marrow of the soul, is called the Thirst of love.”

The possession of God was the one desire of this angelic girl from her very earliest years. And we have seen from what has been said up to the present that it was truly the passion of her heart. By degrees as her soul grew apace in perfection undergoing the severe so called purgations of sense and spirit sent her by Our Lord in great number and severity, this one desire likewise went on increasing; and then from the state of an unquenchable fire consuming her whole being, it became a burning thirst that had to be satisfied and could only be so by fully possessing her God and her all. In such a state of loving agony this dove found no relief except in sighs and longings, and in truth she sighed and yearned night and day. “For me,” she exclaimed, “Jesus is what I want; oh! give me, give me Jesus.” And turning to Him: “Make haste Jesus; oh do You not see how this heart longs for Thee? Oh do You not see how it languishes? Does it not pain Thee O God, to see it thus languish in desire? Come! come, Jesus, make haste, come near, let me hear Thy voice. O God, when shall my whole being be satiated with Thy Divine Light, oh when? Jesus, food of strong souls, strengthen, purify me, make me divine, Great God, Jesus, help me. God begotten of God, come to my aid, I thirst for Thee, Jesus. Do You not see how I suffer every morning until I feed on Thee? Grant at least, that thus nourished I may remain satisfied.”

Being then in the center of such a fire was it possible for the heart of this seraph not to blaze forth? I have told how it blazed so fiercely that it burned the flesh that surrounded it, even to the outside skin. Here I add, that as the spiritual flames continued, the mysterious physical phenomenon increased and—little by little—that fire which at first was confined to the sole region of the heart spread itself over her whole body, which thus became so to speak a furnace. Thus after having given me particulars of it, she added:

“My heart, father, is the victim of Love, and I shall soon die of love. These flames of love consume my body as well as my heart, and I shall be reduced to ashes. Yesterday as I drew near to Jesus exposed in the Blessed Sacrament I felt myself burning so violently that I was obliged to move away. I was burning all over; it rose even to my face. Viva Gesu! How happens it that so many who are standing close to Jesus do not burn to ashes?”

This prodigious phenomenon was several times verified by me, by the use of the thermometer, and no sooner was it applied to the part affected than the column of mercury instantly rose to the summit of the tube as if it had been exposed to burning heat. The next CHAPTER will contain what remains to be said on this subject.