The Story of a Soul has transformed the hearts of millions. Through her “Little Way,” Saint Thérèse of Lisieux teaches us a profound lesson: sanctity is possible for even the smallest of souls. Here, she discusses the way of love and likens herself to a little brush in the hands of the Divine Artist.
The Mysterious Depths of Charity
IN HIS infinite goodness, Reverend Mother, God has given me the grace to sound the mysterious depths of charity. If I could only tell you all I understand, it would be like the harmonies of Heaven in your ears, but I can only lisp like a little child and would be tempted to ask leave to be silent, if the words of Jesus did not support me.
When the Divine Master says, “Give to everyone that asketh thee, and of him that taketh away thy goods, ask them not again” (Luke 6:30), I think He means not only the goods of earth, but those of Heaven too. Neither belong to me, in any case, since I renounced the former when I took the vow of poverty, and the latter have only been lent to me by God; He can take them back, and I should have no right to complain about it.
But one’s most intimate thoughts, the children of one’s heart and mind, are riches which one clings to as one’s very own; no one has any right to encroach on them. If, for example, I tell one of the Sisters of some enlightening thought that came to me in meditation, and if she makes it known as if it had come to her, it would seem as though she had taken something that was mine. Or again, if in recreation, someone whispers something amusing to her neighbor and this is repeated out loud without acknowledgement, its author feels as if she has been robbed. She may say nothing at the time, but feels her loss and seizes the first chance she gets to make known, delicately of course, that it was stolen from her treasury of thoughts. I could not tell you of such paltry failings, Mother, had I not experienced them myself, and I should have liked to lull myself with the pleasant illusion that they troubled me alone, had you not ordered me to act as spiritual directress to the novices.
The Spirit of Love
This task which you entrusted to me has taught me much, while above all, it makes me practice what I preach. I think it is true to say now that, through grace, I am as detached from the spiritual goods of heart and soul as I am from earthly goods. If any thoughts or words of mine should happen to give pleasure to the Sisters, I am only too glad that they should treat them as their own property. Such thoughts, after all, do not belong to me, but to the Holy Ghost, for has not St. Paul assured us that “without the Spirit of Love, we cannot even call God Father”? (Cf. Rom. 8:15). I cannot regard such thoughts as my personal property, and so He is very welcome to make use of me to pass them on to others.
Besides, I have been convinced for a long time that, though of course one must not despise anything that helps us to be more closely united to God, such inspirations, however sublime, are worth nothing without deeds.
True, others may profit by these thoughts, so long as they are grateful to God for allowing them to share the banquet of one more privileged, but if it makes the latter self-satisfied, like the Pharisee, she would be like someone dying of hunger at a well-spread table. The guests would take their fill, perhaps even casting envious eyes upon the owner of such riches, while she starved.
Only God Sees the Bottom of Our Hearts
Yes, only God can see what is in the bottom of our hearts; we are half-blind. When someone is more enlightened than we are, we conclude that God must love us less. Since when did He lose the right to use anyone He likes to feed His other children with the food they need? He certainly acted in this way in the time of Pharaoh, for He said to him:
“And therefore have I raised thee that I may show My power in thee and My name may be spoken of throughout the earth.” (Ex. 9:16). That was centuries ago, but the Most High has not changed His ways. He has always chosen from among His people those through whom He carries out His work for souls.
The Analogy of the Artist and the Brush
Could a canvas painted by an artist think and speak, it certainly would not grumble at being continually touched and retouched by the brush, nor be envious of the brush, knowing that its beauty did not come from the brush, but from the artist who was using it. The brush in turn could take no credit for a masterpiece, just because it was used to paint it, knowing that real artists are never at a loss, rejoice at difficulties, and often for their own amusement use the most wretched and defective instruments.
I am the little brush, Reverend Mother, which Jesus has chosen to use to paint His likeness on the souls you have entrusted to my care. An artist uses many brushes, or two at least. The first and most important is used to sketch the general background and quickly covers the whole of the canvas, while the second, the smaller one, is used to sketch in detail.
The very fact that, left to myself, I could do nothing, made my task seem all the more simple; there was only one thing for me to do, unite myself more and more to God, knowing that He would give all the rest in addition.
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This article is taken from a chapter in The Story of a Soul by Saint Thérèse of Lisieux which is available from TAN Books.