CHAPTER 25 - FRANCE
The years passed quickly for Mother de Chantal. They were a blend of darkness and light, as is life for most people. She spent much of her time visiting monasteries of the order and praying during the journey, rather than in the quiet of one of the monastery chapels that she had founded in conjunction with her spiritual friend, Francis de Sales.
The mother foundress was back at Annecy for a period of quiet renewal, a very rare treat indeed. Recreation with the community included spinning yarn and doing mending as they chatted. Sometimes they would sing together or tell stories, often based on the lives of the saints. One evening after Night Prayer, Mother de Chantal was about to go to her cell, as simple monastic sleeping rooms are sometimes called, to retire for the evening. Most unusual for that hour, the Sister charged with interfacing between the monastic enclosure and “the world” came to her. The out- sister said there was a gentleman here to see her. Mother de Chantal was confused but not completely surprised. It was dusk so she was not expecting anyone. Because her life had been filled with surprises, one possibility was that perhaps it was the relative of a nun, or a workman who had been hired to help in the renovation of a building being turned into a new monastery.
Even though monastics do not normally speak from Night Prayer until after breakfast, a period called the “grand silence,” the foundress consented to see the visitor. Her Salesian spirituality was nothing if it was not practical and charitable. She knew it would be unkind to turn the man away because he had probably traveled from a great distance. The out- sister accompanied her Rev. Mother to the visiting parlor and sat discreetly in a corner on a wooden chair. Mother de Chantal drew back the black drapes in front of her which revealed a crisscross of metal bars called “the grill.” This grill marked the enclosure between the outer world and the inner world of the monastery. It was also a form of protection for a group of women living in the middle of the forest, or anywhere else for that matter. The drapes were often closed and a visitor would speak with the cloistered nun through the black cloth. Mother de Chantal wanted to be as welcoming as possible so she chose the option of opening the drapes.
A man of medium height stood before her. His black hair was wet with rain and his complexion glistened in the light of the oil lamp on the nun's side of the grill. The gentle man placed his two palms together in front of his heart and bowed to the foundress. "Rev. Mother, thank you for seeing me. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Henri. Some years ago I was very sick and poverty-stricken. Your nuns were just founded and I was one of the people you cared for in the very beginning. You and another nun came to visit me, bathe my wounds, and cook for me. I have never forgotten that. I have also never forgotten the prayers that you promised to say for me. I know that a major portion of your day is given over to prayer and that your general intention is to pray for the needs of all people, especially those you have cared for in your external ministry." The man's voice was starting to quiver with emotion.
"We did no more than our vocation calls us to do. Yet I am very happy to receive your information. Many times we don't know what happens to the people we care for. Sometimes they get better, sometimes they die, and sometimes they move in with relatives. We do what we can. As for the prayer, we do hold all of you in our hearts, whether our failing memories remember exactly what transpired or not. Can you tell me why you have come here this evening?"
"Please forgive the fact that I have arrived unannounced and at a late hour. I was traveling on horseback and my horse went lame. I wound up walking, and bringing the horse along with his reins in my hand. I have bandaged his ankle and I think he will be fine, but I did not want to turn back. Rev. Mother, I have often listened to your co-founder, Bishop Francis de Sales, when he would speak publicly. You might say that I have imbibed the spirit of the Visitation order and the Salesian charism from your ministry and his preaching. After lengthy discussions with my own spiritual director I am going to become a hermit. This is indeed an unusual vocation but I believe that God is calling me to it. I wanted you to know this because Francis de Sales is dead and I may never see you again, except in Paradise."
"This is indeed unique and your story quite interesting. As I'm sure you know, a hermit is one who leaves the world only to enter into it at a deeper level. If one is running away from life, becoming a hermit is a very unhealthy thing to do. I will trust my instincts and your spiritual director on this matter, and believe that you are doing what the Holy Spirit has called you to do. It seems to me that you are going toward something, or someone, rather than running away."
Henri smiled humbly. "Mother, may I ask a favor of you? I would like to have some writings from you and Bishop Francis de Sales to take with me. I would like to use that material for spiritual reading so that I might deepen my understanding of the Scriptures and of the spiritual life through the writings you may be able to provide for me. I believe that I have been guided here to receive whatever material you wish to entrust to me. I cannot say that I will be able to return it to you directly, but will certainly do my very best to see that it returns to the Salesian family one day."
Mother de Chantal shuddered. She had a blinding insight that this newly-called hermit would live in a hermitage very far away indeed. The Salesian charism would be passed on to a wider audience in that way.