I don’t wish to leave Dombes without having recounted to you one of the most lovely conversations that I could ever have with a brother. It will also demonstrate that silence is not mutism, and that it allows us to ruminate and savor so many good ideas in the style of those I have the pleasure of sharing with you now.
The setting was very ordinary, so much so that I don’t remember how the conversation came about! What’s for sure is that I had come to ask Brother Jean[1] the following question that his serene, shining face always provoked:
“What is the faith that moves you, what are you always thinking about, Brother Jean, that means that you are always so serene?”
He remained quiet for a moment, then he said very gently, like a spring giving its water:
“The thing I have is the knowledge that God loves to act secretly on men’s behalf . . .”
My silence encouraged him to continue:
“You see,” he said, “that is how it has always been, from the first day. God might have begun with the creation of man, who would then have been a witness to the rest of creation; he could have built him up by showing him the way in which he creates, disposes and organizes the world; he would thus have nourished the man’s memory, giving grounds for praise . . . but, no! God preferred to do everything without man’s knowledge, in secret, while everything, absolutely everything was being done for our benefit — the light, the heavens, the seas, continents, stars, the plants and all the animals . . . The whole of God’s work was for humanity! When everything had been finished, that’s when he created man, and when the man opened his eyes he found it all without having seen God at work; and God offered his work to him, without even saying that he was its author . . . How amazing!
“When God created the woman, he did the same: he plunged the man into a deep sleep so that he could work in secret, and when the man awoke he was in awe of the result, but without having seen God at work! Since then, that is how it is has always been; God is always the same, unceasingly at work on man’s behalf and always unseen. It is really rather astonishing, you have to admit, and it is so not only in the great works of salvation history, but also in our own lives, in each of our cases. So far as I am concerned, anyway, God is always at work in my life and always unbeknownst to me; I always become aware of it later. Well, I have a deep appreciation of this modesty of God, and I love him for this, so humble and so discreet, and ingeniously working as if he didn’t want me to know! This is his choice, his custom, and it his liberty, which I respect completely; love leaves the other party free, does it not? We lay claim to this love but credit it to God. But if I love him as I do, in his modesty and discretion, it is also because I have found that this attitude of his is one of great wisdom, and extremely beneficent to me. I have to recognize that by proceeding in this way God was in fact protecting me against pride, against vanity and a sort of spiritual greed.
“One day, God did lift the veil of his secret presence a little . . . You know, one of those spiritual experiences, one of those moments mystics know so well how to analyze. I was so marked by it that pride got a hold on me, along with this greed and vainglory. What an idiot I am! Well, God in his great wisdom has not repeated this. It is again in secret that he has continued his work, leading me on, and this is how he has treated my excessive pride. In the end I have asked God to keep things secret, and in this way my love for him has become more serene. I no longer desire that God break cover, I am simply too prideful. It is enough for me to contemplate his works past and recent, and they cause me to marvel to the highest degree. There is plenty of material, plenty to consider, not only in my life but in others too, and throughout the world . . . so many benefits, small and great, accomplished by God but unknown to us . . . they are incalculable! This leaves me infinitely thankful and serene, it’s true!
“When I look at the deeds of people, beginning with myself, I usually weep over them; when I look at what God does, peace returns. When I have finished contemplating his works, I don’t know if even then I will ask God to emerge from his secrecy . . . But that is not a matter for tomorrow! When, indeed, shall I have finished contemplating just what he did 2000 years ago early on Resurrection morning while the whole world slept? Yes indeed, God loves to work on our behalf in secrecy; it is his joy and now it is mine! That is the God whom I love . . .
“I have lived here for years. I’ve seen many postulants come and go. From the moment you give yourself to prayer, there is the temptation to wish to experience God in the prayer. Many postulants are inclined towards this thirst for mystical experience in which God to some degree puts off his secrecy, and many of them fall into this spiritual greed or into vanity, just like me! Greedy mysticism is sick; it exalts spiritual experience and so runs the risk of relying on it rather than on faith; and, as you know, it is faith that brings to pass what we don’t yet see or feel because it is secret. When God works secretly, it is in order to keep our faith active. In seeking and cultivating spiritual experiences, we take away from faith. More, as we over indulge the desire for an experience of God, we wind up thinking only of ourselves. Postulants like this, from the moment they no longer sense God, believe themselves to have been abandoned by him; they finally confuse what God does with what they experience. When they no longer sense his presence, they believe God to be absent . . . What a misunderstanding! God is always present, always at work, but secretly! Tell me; you wear a beard — do you feel it growing? No, of course not! Nevertheless you know very well that it never stops! Well, if there are things in our bodies that we don’t actively perceive, should we not also suppose that God’s activity in us may be taking place unnoticed? This is a bit simplistic, I know, but very true. God is at work in every moment, his love is constant, his grace never lessens . . . But, in secret you see! In secret . . . How wonderful!”
His face was radiant. His gaze rested on me with great kindness. Mine was fixed on the ground, stopping on an ant scurrying along a blade of grass! Yes, always at work, unseen!
My joy was great that day, and is again as I write!
I shall return to the silence; may God enliven the fire of his love in you.
May 30th 1996
[1] I read this letter to Brother Jean. He insisted that I not refer to him by his real name, so he has become “Brother Jean” here.
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