CHAPTER 13 - FRANCE
“My dear Bishop Francis de Sales,
"The months are flying by like the clouds in a beautiful blue sky during the summertime. Even the household servants in this dismal castle of my father-in-law comment on the change in my attitude. It used to be that during my morning and evening prayer time I would have them get up and make a fire for me, but no more. I overheard one young servant man recently saying to another, 'previously Madame de Chantal prayed twice a day and disturbed us all. Now she appears to be in a prayerful state all day long and disturbs no one.'
“Your book, Introduction to a Devout Life, is being well received. I understand that people want it translated from the French into other languages. It is eminently practical and geared to people 'in the world.' I particularly like the section where you talk about being of good cheer. You pose the question about why anyone would be attracted to Christianity if all the people who practiced it were gloomy. Even though I am surrounded by gloom, rejection, and loss, deep in my heart I have a sense of peaceful joy that no one can take from me. I believe that this is a great gift of God, and I do my best to help others discover this gift which is in them also.
“There was a ball held here recently--quite an unusual event. Once again, people were introducing me to this count, that doctor, and the other lawyer. Because, in the lower part of my soul, I remained conflicted, knowing that life would indeed be a lot easier if I would simply marry one of these gentlemen, I fled to my room and took a knife, heated the tip of it in the fire, and branded the name ‘Jesus’ on my chest. This semi-mutilation will now prevent me from wearing the fashionable and slightly low-cut gowns. Perhaps this will end my inner confusion.
“After I did that somewhat outrageous act, I came to my senses. I doubt very much that you would approve of such a thing. I can almost hear you telling me that the name of Jesus must be branded in our heart, rather than on the surface of our body. Forgive me, dear Bishop, if I have let my fears and conflicts get out of hand. Forgive me if my zeal for the love of God has become misguided. I share this with you because I want you to know my heart and my soul, both the good of it and the bad of it.
“Not long ago when we met, you asked me to go off to the Poor Clare nuns and I said that I would. Then you changed that request and asked me to become Carmelite. Again, I agreed. It was only when you began to share with me your idea for a new type of religious order that my heart truly felt at peace. I didn't even know the details of your idea but something in me resonated in harmony with just that germ of a thought.
“You have much wisdom to share with us all. I know, that in addition to writing the Introduction to a Devout Life, you have also been writing a Treatise on the Love of God. This is your more mystical work, I understand. This material, in my little opinion, needs to be shared with the largest audience possible. Would that the idea you have for some type of new religious community will allow your spirit, I really mean the Holy Spirit working in you, to pass down the gift of this charism for centuries to come.
“Your books are rapidly becoming public property, but there are aspects of your heart that only I know about, and I am keeping certain letters apart from our other correspondence because I want to explore them more deeply, reflect upon them more completely, and just let God do with them what God wants to do. I realize that there is a private and very humble side to you. While many bishops enjoy wearing colorful adornments and being given gestures of reverence and respect, you spend your time doing spiritual direction with someone like the likes of me. You are attracted to the sick and the poor, and above all to those who long for a spiritual life. All of these things, while completely consistent with the Gospel, do not make you a very popular prelate in the eyes of your peers.
“I understand, my dear spiritual director, that there has even been some talk, from time to time, about your relationship with myself and other women. It seems that no matter what we do, we are at risk for being gossiped about, lied about, or misunderstood. I'm beginning to understand much more clearly you are teaching about keeping one's eyes on our good God, and doing what we think God wants us to do. All of this is to be done out of the love of God, rather than out of what other people may, or may not, think.
“It humbles me that you shared with me the struggle you had in dealing with your father’s resistance to your own vocation some years ago. That gives me courage. It certainly appears that those struggles have born enormous fruit, of which I am but one grateful recipient.
“You mentioned the possibility of my making a vow of charity--vowing to do nothing knowingly and willingly against charity in thought, word, or deed. That is very appealing to me and much more life-giving than the vows my previous spiritual director imposed upon me. My intuition, hopefully coming from the Holy Spirit, suggests to me that this vow of charity may have something to do with the idea you have for forming a new religious institute. I hope that when we meet again we can talk more specifically about what the Spirit of God is suggesting to you. My children continue to flourish in spite of their surroundings and, hopefully, because I have had the grace of my present vocation to be a good mother. Their futures are well provided for now and mine remains open. I try to be like a ball of wax in the hand of God, as you might put it.”
“Until we speak again, I remain your grateful daughter,
Baroness Jane de Chantal”