INTRODUCTION
When one seeks to define the character of Dominican spirituality, one is struck by its multiplicity of elements, yet also by a supreme simplicity that is hardly adaptable to the formulas of a definition. Its diverse constitutive principles do not seem easily reconcilable, and the means by which they fuse into a cohesive whole is neither immediately apparent nor easily grasped—except by those souls gradually formed and tempered within its discipline.
In one respect, this spirituality often recalls the principle that grace does not destroy nature but perfects it. At the same time, however, it opens the way for the natural development of our higher faculties, to such an extent that some of St. Thomas’ adversaries have attempted to detect in him a trace of naturalism. These critics perceive in him more the philosopher than the theologian. Others have even claimed that the Summa Theologiae draws more from Aristotelian sagacity than from Evangelical and Pauline wisdom, thereby distinguishing it sharply from classic spiritual works, such as The Imitation of Christ.
Yet Dominican spirituality also assigns the greatest concrete and practical importance to mortification, as is evident from the Order’s rule: the Night Office, perpetual abstinence, fasts, and other monastic observances—practices that modern congregations have often deemed irreconcilable with apostolic activity. This same character is found in the Rule of the Third Order, known as the Order of Penance—a character that appears most vividly in the austere lives of Dominican saints and blesseds and in their great devotion to the sorrowful mysteries of the Passion, with not a few of them having received the stigmata. Within the Church, no theological doctrine stands more firmly opposed to Pelagian or Semi-Pelagian naturalism than that of St. Thomas. No Catholic theology emphasizes more than his the impossibility of meriting supernatural life through good natural works alone, or even of disposing oneself to sanctifying grace without the gratuitous help of actual grace [I]. No teaching affirms more insistently than that of St. Thomas the infinite transcendence of supernatural life over natural life (even that of the angels), no matter how rich and magnanimous the latter may be. In this light, the most perfect nature seems as nothing compared to the lowest degree of sanctifying grace. Does this mean, then, that St. Thomas’ doctrine ultimately diminishes nature, despite seeming at first to exalt it too highly?
In the order of grace, Dominican spirituality affirms two principles that, at first glance, appear diametrically opposed. On the one hand, it holds that grace does not become efficacious by the mere consent of our will, but possesses intrinsic efficacy in itself, producing in us and with us a will turned toward salvation (ad salutem). This doctrine might seem, at first, to verge on Quietism, as though man needed only to surrender himself passively to be saved and sanctified by God, without any active cooperation on his part—requiring only a pure, simple, and disinterested love of salvation, an abandonment to gratuitous predestination, without the positive practice of concrete virtues. On the other hand, however, Dominican spirituality insists vehemently on the practice of the virtues, as evidenced by the sheer number St. Thomas enumerates—more than forty, each opposed by two vices (one by excess, the other by defect). The asceticism contained in The Dialogue of St. Catherine of Siena and St. Vincent Ferrer’s Treatise on the Spiritual Life also bears witness to this insistence!
When it comes to the form of supernatural life, some religious orders devote themselves exclusively to the contemplative life, while others dedicate themselves entirely to the active life. Dominican spirituality, however, seeks to unite both within a single program. It may seem, at first, that contemplation is inevitably disrupted by the demands of study and apostolic activity and that such activity does not properly dispose one for contemplation, which, belonging to the mystical order, requires silence, solitude, and habitual meditation. How, then, can these two lives be reconciled? Some have perceived within the Order of St. Dominic a certain dualism, with two seemingly opposing currents: one, marked by study and apostolate,—of Thomistic origin; the other, absorbed in piety and strict observance—of Catherinian origin. As if, in short, St. Dominic had failed to imprint upon his Order the unity that every living organism requires. In reality, however, these three great figures—Dominic, Thomas, and Catherine—are within the same Order as a reflection of the three divine Persons: the Father, the Word, and the Spirit of Love.
Numerous other apparent tensions within Dominican spirituality could be cited. For instance, it regards intelligence as the noblest faculty of man, the one that directs all others, yet at the same time, with a categorical clarity of eloquence, it proclaims the superiority of charity in inspiring the highest possible knowledge of God on earth. Once again, we are led to ask: How can such seemingly divergent elements be reconciled within a single ideal? And what is the unifying principle that harmonizes these diverse components into one dominant characteristic?
I. DOMINANT CHARACTER OF DOMINICAN SPIRITUALITY
From what has been said, it is evident that Dominican spirituality seeks to suppress nothing that can truly contribute to the sanctification of both the individual and others. It does not hesitate to affirm principles that may seem contradictory at first glance, provided that each is clarified per se with absolute certainty. Rather than merely juxtaposing these principles with an opportunistic eclecticism that would superficially balance their respective demands, Dominican spirituality seeks to unite them organically, integrating them within a logical and perfectly ordered hierarchy. However, this integration cannot be achieved by stopping halfway; it requires a movement of elevation, whereby apparent contradictions are resolved at their highest limits, and their perfect harmony is realized in a sublime loftiness.
Dominican spirituality thus strives toward a transcendent vision—an outlook that embraces and synthesizes the most diverse aspects of Christian life, demonstrating how they are wonderfully united in their common origin and supreme end. This overarching vision is none other than Wisdom itself, the contemplation of divine Truth and its universal elucidation within creation. Is this not precisely the motto of the Order: Contemplari et contemplata aliis tradere—to contemplate and to share with others the fruits of that contemplation unto salvation? Indeed, this apostolic contemplation is summed up in a single word: Veritas—divine Truth, the universal light that illuminates the world.
Every spiritual family possesses its own distinct physiognomy, as St. Paul says: "And there are diversities of operations, but the same God, who worketh all in all. And the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man unto profit. To one indeed, by the Spirit, is given the word of wisdom [II]: and to another, the word of knowledge [III], according to the same Spirit; To another, faith in the same Spirit [IV], etc…. But all these things one and the same Spirit worketh, dividing to every one according as he will. [V]"
This diversity also appears among the Evangelists, and the sublimity of St. John is especially attributed to his extraordinary reception of that sermo sapientiae, the word of wisdom of which St. Paul speaks: "Howbeit we speak wisdom among the perfect: yet not the wisdom of this world, neither of the princes of this world that come to nought; But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, a wisdom which is hidden, which God ordained before the world, unto our glory: Which none of the princes of this world knew; for if they had known it, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory. But, as it is written: That eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love him. But to us God hath revealed them, by his Spirit. For the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God. [VI]"
Was this not the very mission of St. Dominic? That great contemplative who spent his nights in prayer, mortifying himself with heroic fortitude, only to spend his days preaching, "knowing nothing but speaking with God or of God." His soul was animated by prayer, and he was found in the streets of Languedoc so immersed in divine union that a gentle light shone from his forehead—this light, it is said, disarmed the hand of an assassin hired by the heretics. Tradition recounts that both Dominic and the Order he founded were thus saved through the contemplation of our Patriarch, who had received from God the command to illuminate souls. The Lord Himself spoke of this to St. Catherine of Siena, offering a parallel between the Dominican and Franciscan Orders: "Consider Francis, with what perfection and fragrance of poverty he governed the ship of his Order… Each Order shines for some particular virtue… though all possess charity, the mother and nourisher of every virtue. Francis, my beloved poverello, had poverty as his legacy, for he loved her with tender affection! He made her the guide of his ship… Your Father Dominic, my beloved son, desired that his children attend solely to my honor and the salvation of souls through the light of learning. On this light, he established the foundation of his Order… to eradicate the errors that in his time were widespread. His office was that of the Word, my Only-Begotten Son. He appeared in the world as an apostle, sowing my word with truth and light. He was a light I offered to the world through Mary… At what table did he invite his children to nourish themselves on the light of learning? At the table of the Cross… But today, this vow is poorly kept, and they pervert the light of learning into darkness, enshrouding it in the smoke of pride… I do not accuse the Order itself, for in its essence, it abounds in every delight; but it is no longer as it was in the beginning, when it flourished marvelously, filled with many perfect religious—resembling St. Paul in the splendor of their wisdom… Consider the glorious Thomas! What a magnificent intellect, wholly consecrated to the contemplation of my Truth, from which he drew supernatural light and infused knowledge—attaining such grace more through prayer than through his most intense study. [VII]"
These final lines reveal that the knowledge of which the Eternal Father speaks to Catherine is supreme knowledge—wisdom that knows things in their originating cause and supreme end. This is not merely the wisdom acquired through natural reason or theological research illumined by faith, but rather infused wisdom, the savory Wisdom of the Saints. It is the beginning of that knowledge of love which is contemplation—the radiant and living gaze of supernatural affection, capable not only of loving God ever more deeply but also of drawing others into the knowledge and love of Him. This is the perfect dependence of natural wisdom on divine Wisdom. The very name of the Dominican church in Rome, Santa Maria sopra Minerva, is an example of this full of profound significance: natural wisdom, thus subordinated, is not diminished into servitude but rather elevated and glorified.
A life so disposed leaves no room for an antithetical dualism between liturgical piety and disciplinary observance on one hand, and study and apostolic work on the other. Rather, all is harmonized—provided that worship and observance, like study, are properly ordered toward divine contemplation, which in turn is ordered toward a more fervent charity to be spread over souls, whereby it makes them partakers of the light of life and guides them toward God. All of this is summed up excellently in the Dominican motto: contemplate and communicate to others the fruits of contemplation: the divine truth contemplated and preached.
Here on earth, even though contemplation is carried on the wings of love of God, it remains greatly limited. For us, as exiles on pilgrimage, to love God is more perfect than to know Him, since knowledge, in a sense, draws God toward us and confines Him within the limits of our small human understanding. Love, on the other hand, absorbs and elevates us toward Him. But in heaven, and for all eternity, the contemplation of God—seen face to face—will no longer have any limitation, and will surpass even the love that will naturally be ignited within us. [VIII]
Each religious family possesses its own characteristic spirituality. St. Benedict consecrates his children in a particular way to the celebration of the Divine Office, and his is the patriarchal Order of praise and peace. Carmelites and Carthusians cherish solitude and austerity so dear to the eremitical life, preserving within the Church the most fervent spirit of prayer. The children of St. Francis find in their father’s poverty the secret and fervor of a love that is wholly seraphic. St. Ignatius of Loyola, uniting penance and ingenuity with zeal for the glory of God, formed a militia that places his characteristic seal on the exercise of a tenacious will.
And thus, each Founder represents a luminous, fervent, magnanimous, and peace-bearing response to the souls elected by God to follow their path. Likewise, God has proposed St. Dominic—and the radiant lights of his Order—as a guide for all who thirst for truth: Truth immutable, infinitely superior to the fluctuations of philosophical ideologies; Truth greater even than the liberty it safeguards, preserving it from every deviation and fault; Divine Truth of the faith, which the preachers defended at the cost of their lives against the raging of heresies that threatened the fabric of civil society; Truth sealed by the blood of the inquisitor St. Peter Martyr and of countless other heroic defenders of the Credo; Truth not only of the intellect but of both the interior and exterior life; Truth absolute, a hatred of falsehood in all its forms and of hypocrisy in all its disguises; Truth as perfect loyalty, magnanimity, and frankness—qualities which, without humility and charity, would degenerate into rude harshness, but instead bestow upon the Dominican spirit its distinctive charm, a great simplicity that embraces both strength and grace in all its varied expressions.
To remain in the truth, this spiritual organism must tend most humbly to sublime things: magnanimiter in re, humiliter autem in modo; fortiter et suaviter (magnanimously in action, humbly in manner; strong and gentle). [IX]
II. ANIMATING PRINCIPLES OF DOMINICAN SPIRITUALITY
From this foundational character of Dominican spirituality arise its constitutive animating principles. We will first list them in their logical order and then develop them in the paragraphs that follow:
I. This spirituality encourages the full flourishing of nature under the influx of grace, yet without the slightest trace of naturalism. It upholds that the flourishing of nature and its plenary realization must be considered from the perspective of wisdom—seeing nature in its first cause and ultimate end—and must be regarded as a fruit of grace itself.
II. Once Dominican spirituality has demonstrated the full extent of what nature can achieve, it then asserts that all of this, even in those most gifted with genius, is absolutely nothing in comparison with supernatural life. The sublime transcendence of supernatural life emerges with even greater categorical precision through this contrast. Nevertheless, Dominican spirituality does not overlook the marvelous harmony between these two orders, despite their incommensurable distance from one another.
III. From this superior and, indeed, more divine than human perspective, Dominican spirituality proceeds to an ever more firm and energetic demonstration of the efficacy of grace. It then advances to illuminate the mystical life as the normal coronation of asceticism, and to affirm that the activity of the apostle flows from and is continually nourished by the fullness of contemplation.
✴ ✴ ✴
The principle so frequently stated by St. Thomas—that nature is not destroyed but perfected by grace—must be understood in its proper significance, with a great spirit of faith and from the perspective of the higher life of wisdom. Otherwise, it is easily misinterpreted, distorted, and reduced to a source of temptation. The term nature in this principle must not be taken in an ascetical sense but in its abstract, logical, and metaphysical sense. In other words, nature does not refer to human nature as fallen, and much less to human nature as it exists concretely after baptism—still bearing the consequences of original sin, its wounds in the process of healing, yet remaining prone to weakness in virtue and inclined to selfishness in all its forms. In theological language, this term signifies human nature in its essential goodness, according to the divine idea which is its archetype, or eternal exemplar.
Understood in this way, it is evident that grace does not destroy nature but, by elevating it, perfects it. For this reason, Dominican spirituality encourages the full development of the natural gifts God bestows on us, as well as the study of human wisdom, which represents the proper use of natural reason, alongside divine wisdom, which is obtained through prayer. Thus, it is said: "Be supernaturally yourselves, apart from your defects, according to the divine idea that presides over your destiny." And again: "The Dominican religion is vast, filled with joy, and fragrant with delightful aromas: paradisus voluptatis! [X]" Yet, for this to be truly so, it requires the austerity of penance and the fervent practice of virtue, in the light of contemplation.
There is, therefore, no contradiction between St. Thomas and the author of The Imitation of Christ, or any other master of asceticism. St. Thomas—who possessed the most precise and abstract understanding of the essence, immutable quality, strength, and final end of human nature—was able to define with even greater clarity all that, in the concrete, deforms it and leads it astray. Not only must these deformities be moderated, but they must also be mortified and eradicated through penance, which constitutes an integral part of Christianity, as is evident in the sacrament that bears its name.
St. Thomas always considers this work of restoration in light of both the first cause and the ultimate end. He declares it absolutely impossible, in our present condition, without grace, whose two primary functions are to heal nature and to elevate it supernaturally—gratia sanans et elevans.
The Angelic Doctor further emphasizes the necessity of this regenerative grace. Without it, even the equilibrium of our moral life—disturbed by original sin—cannot be restored. Supernatural revelation is therefore morally necessary, so that all men may, in brief and with certainty, know the fullness of the natural truths of the faith, free from all admixture of error. [XI]
These truths, though far inferior to the order of the supernatural mysteries, are per se accessible to reason. Yet reason, without grace, can only grasp them imperfectly. "And hence… in order to love God above all things naturally… man, in the state of corrupt nature, needs, even for this, the help of grace to heal his nature. [XII]" "Without this help, man can work some particular good, as to build dwellings, plant vineyards, and the like… but, in the manner of a sick man, he cannot do all the natural good… and fulfill all the divine commandments. [XIII]"
Thus, although St. Thomas speaks in the Summa Theologiae of natural perfection and the acquired virtues that constitute it, he does so always presupposing the presence of reparative grace. He reasons about these matters not merely as a philosopher but as a Christian and theologian. Consequently, it is evident to all that even the slightest trace of naturalism has no place in Thomistic thought.
✴ ✴ ✴
This understanding of the natural perfection of man, far from leading to naturalism, shows more clearly than any other approach the infinite transcendence of the supernatural order that surpasses absolutely not only the strengths and exigencies of even the most gifted human nature but also those of every created or creatable nature. The more fully the perfection of the natural order is illuminated, the more profoundly the transcendence of supernatural life is revealed—an order that is infinitely superior to nature itself. No matter how much our natural faculties and virtues develop, even in the hypothetical case of indefinite progress in knowledge and morality, it remains certain that such a development could never reach even the slightest degree of sanctifying grace.
Even if God were to create ever more perfect angels, their natural perfection would still be utterly incapable of performing the smallest act of charity. There is, therefore, no possible parallel between created nature—however perfect—and divine nature. The grace of a single soul (such as that of a child after baptism) is worth more than the beauty of the entire universe [XIV], more than all created and creatable angelic natures combined—just as the most fleeting movement of thought is worth more than the entire material cosmos, with its countless millions of stars swirling in a vast nebula.
A higher conception of the order of grace is impossible. Thus, contrary to the views of some theologians, we must reject the idea that there exists even the slightest seed of supernatural life within our nature, or even within the most perfect angelic nature. Supernatural life belongs to an order infinitely higher: it is a real and formal participation in the intimate life of God Himself. Our nature, as well as that of the angels, contains nothing of this supernatural life—except for the capacity to be elevated to it. And this merely passive capacity is no greater in the most sublime angelic nature than in the soul of a poor, illiterate Christian woman. If this humble woman dies possessing a degree of charity equal to that of the angel in question, she will enjoy, with him, the same degree of glory. The angel’s superior natural intellect will not grant him a more profound vision of the infinite and absolutely supernatural object that is God Himself.
This truth eliminates any possible proportionality between the natural and supernatural orders. It follows that good natural works cannot, in any way, merit divine grace or positively dispose us toward it. This is one of the fundamental principles of Thomistic doctrine, standing against any vestige of Pelagian naturalism. [XV]
From this transcendent perspective, we also comprehend the incomparable value of even the smallest act of charity, the superiority of infused moral virtues over the acquired moral virtues described by pagan philosophers, and the sublime magnificence of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. These gifts make us docile to divine inspirations and enable us to partake in God’s own divine mode of knowing and loving.
The essential supernaturalness of grace is immeasurably higher than the supernaturalness of miracles or even the extraordinary manifestations of the mystical life. No theologian has ever conceived a more sublime understanding of supernatural life than St. Thomas, nor has any other teacher provided a more exact and sure doctrine concerning the intimate union of the soul with God. Dominican spirituality, by insisting on the infinite distance that separates nature and grace, at the same time demonstrates their sublime harmony in the perfect structure of Christian life.
What is the sublime, if not that which is infinitely superior in the order of beauty—above all, intellectual and moral beauty? And what is beauty, if not the radiant harmony of diverse elements, the light of unity in diversity? If the elements to be united are infinitely distant from one another, only God can harmonize them, and their union then becomes not merely beautiful but sublime. Only God can fuse nature and grace.
However, one must not be deceived into thinking that, because grace does not destroy nature but elevates it, their perfect harmony is easily achieved. St. Thomas affirms that, in practice, such harmony is arduous (arduum). This harmony, which certainly existed in the state of original justice, is found incomparably more beautifully in Jesus and Mary. It is also visible in the unitive life of the saints, but to reach it, one must pass through the purgative way—including the passive purifications that unite us to the sufferings of Christ, making us worthy to share in His glory: "For the Spirit himself giveth testimony to our spirit, that we are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also; heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ: yet so, if we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified with him. [XVI]"
✴ ✴ ✴
Finally, in the supernatural order, Dominican spirituality—viewed from the higher perspective of wisdom, which judges all things in relation to God—insists more on the efficacy of grace obtained through prayer than through the strength of human will.
According to this doctrine, grace is efficacious in itself, not by the human consent that seconds it. This is the meaning of St. Paul’s words: "For it is God who worketh in you, both to will and to accomplish, according to his good will. [XVII]" "For who distinguisheth thee? Or what hast thou that thou hast not received? )[XVIII]"
God alone is the author of salvation. Even the highest element of Christian life—the free self-determination of the soul’s acceptance of grace—cannot be our exclusive work. It must come from God as the first cause, and from us as the second cause. It is from grace and from our will moved by grace, but never from grace imposed by force.
What could be stronger and gentler for us than this intrinsically efficacious grace, which does not destroy but actualizes our freedom? Fortiter et suaviter—strongly and sweetly—is the way God moves our will toward the good.
Dominican spirituality never separates these two aspects of divine governance: omnipotent power and sweetness. Diminishing one would necessarily diminish the other, whereas their intimate union forms an impenetrable mystery, teaching us the highest mystical orthodoxy.
One must have absolute confidence in the absolute efficacy of the grace merited by Christ. To doubt this efficacy would be to doubt the very goodness and power of the Lord. This doctrine, being heavenly wisdom rather than mere psychology or moral knowledge, considers above all things the first cause and ultimate end of human activity.
Thus, all our free acts directed toward salvation (ad salutem) derive first from God, and then from us—from God in the first place and from us consequently. Similarly, in the ascetic life and in the daily practice of virtue, the mystical life appears as the normal coronation of spirituality. It is characterized by the predominance of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, by his supernatural inspirations, and by a profound docility of the soul, entirely abandoned to the most intimate and most unitive divine action which purifies and sanctifies it. [XIX]
If, on the contrary, not all of our free acts ad salutem originate from God—if our free choice and cooperation are added as something exclusively ours to the divine attraction that draws us—then we remain, as it were, on the front line. In such a view, the mystical life, with the special passivity that characterizes it, no longer appears as the normal coronation of the interior life but as something entirely extraordinary, outside the logical order of perfect sanctification.
Between these two perspectives, the first is closer to the truth, more supernatural, simpler, and, despite appearances, more demanding. According to this first understanding, prayer—the breath of the soul and the abandonment to Providence—becomes ever more essential, humility is more deeply valued, and suffering is illuminated as a means of refinement, revealing its divine origin and its purpose in returning the troubled soul to God. The following advice can be drawn from this perspective: "Listen to the Lord, be attentive to His action within you, take care not to resist His inspirations, and pray for the strength to second them. Then the Lord will grant you the strongest and sweetest grace, which will infallibly bring you to the good, forming you for ever more generous sacrifices, for a charity ever more perfect, for an ever more intimate union."
The second concept, which is less inspired by divine wisdom and more influenced by human psychology and morality, is, precisely for this reason, more complicated, more external, more mechanical. It inclines the soul more toward excessive self-examination rather than to see the action of God in its innermost. The following advice arises from this perspective: "Seek to make effective, through your own effort, the sufficient grace that God grants to all. It is up to you to save and purify yourself by putting into practice the gifts that God generously apportions to each Christian."
However, this view, by limiting trust in the help of the Lord, also attenuates the exigencies. If man cannot rely on the intrinsic efficacy of God's help to attain and persevere in the good, then not much can be demanded of him. Consequently, whoever follows such an idea cannot be elevated too high, and will generally consider mystical union as an extraordinary gift that is not licit, without presumption, to desire.
The first perspective, in our judgment, considers man as he should be, while the second considers him merely as he is. But should the fact cause us to forget the right? Should common mediocrity make us lose sight of the perfect order admired in the saints? We must not confuse what is extraordinary merely in fact—such as the mystical life—with what is extraordinary per se or by right, such as miracles. The fact that few souls are chosen and elevated to the mystical life does not mean that few are called to it. Too often, translators of St. John of the Cross and other spiritual masters choose to write called to the mystical life when the original text should be translated as elevated to the mystical life—a grave confusion. "For many are called, but few are chosen," as stated in the parable of the banquet, referring to those who refused to partake. This is true not only in the general order of salvation but also in the order of perfect sanctification. [XX]
If fidelity to the Holy Spirit normally leads to the living waters of prayer, what must be said of the relationship between contemplation and apostolic activity? Does the intensity of contemplation require the sacrifice of apostolic activity? Must apostolic activity be renounced for the sake of being nourished by the warm and living light of contemplation? Dominican spirituality answers with St. Thomas: The teaching of sacred science and preaching must flow from the fullness of contemplation—ex plenitudine contemplationis. These words, joined together, hold a most exalted meaning in the language of St. Thomas, who is always so sober and exact.
Contemplation is not ordered to apostolic activity in the way that, for instance, hurried study is undertaken to prepare for a speech. Rather, contemplation is the very wellspring of apostolic activity, the cause that forms and actuates it. The highest moment in the apostolic life is the hour in which the apostle is united to God in prayer. From this unitive contact, he then descends among men, his soul filled with charity and living light, to speak to them of God and to guide them toward Him with an irresistible hand.
Thus, St. Thomas regards both the active life and the purely contemplative life as less perfect than the apostolic life, which unites them in a single heartbeat and finds its fulfillment in contemplation made fruitful through the apostolate. Like Jesus Christ and the twelve Apostles, the Dominican must be a contemplative who shares with others the fruits of his contemplation, to save and sanctify them. Contemplari et contemplata aliis tradere—these are the famous words of St. Thomas that became the motto of his Order. Contemplation, far from impeding apostolic work by demanding hours of meditation, instead becomes its clear and inexhaustible spring. Our apostolate falters whenever our contemplation diminishes or ceases. Without contemplation—without the desire to be strengthened in this sublime gymnasium—the Dominican soul, puffed up with vain knowledge, loses its light. It is consumed and utterly destroyed by practical naturalism, which makes it prey to intellectual pride and distances it entirely from the model of prayer and holiness that shines in St. Dominic, who fed every minute at the table of the Cross of Christ.
Divine contemplation lifts us beyond what can distract or unsettle our insignificant selves, elevating us instead into an unceasing awareness of God and souls. It fills us with an invincible energy to overcome every obstacle. Only through loving contemplation of the living light, the infinite love of God for us, the superabundant redemption, and the eternal beatitude already begun in souls, can we become tireless and irresistible preachers—not merely of the letter but of the transcendent spirit of the Gospel.
And this contemplative and apostolic life is not, in fact, impossible. The saints and blesseds of the Dominican Order and many other religious families have lived it. With the power of God’s grace, we too can—and must—live it.
May the Patriarch of Preachers obtain abundant graces for us. And he surely will, if we invoke him with fervent love in the words that so well characterize the mission that He had and that his Order conserves: "O Lumen Ecclesiae, Doctor veritatis, Rosa patientiae, Ebur castitatis, Aquam sapientiae propinasti gratis: Praedicator gratiae, nos junge beatis."
ENDNOTES
[I] cf. Summa Theologiae I-II q. 109 a. 5, 6, 7; q. 112 a. 2; q. 113, a. 5.
[II] That is, the gift of making known the most difficult mysteries of Revelation.
[III] That is, the gift of presenting the religious truths that all must know and of rendering them accessible to all.
[IV] That is, a faith so potent as to perform miracles.
[V] I Cor. XII, 6-11.
[VI] I Cor. II, 6.
[VII] Dialogue of Divine Providence, c. CLVIII.
[VIII] cf. S. Th. I q. 82, a. 3.
[IX] cf. S. Th. II-II q. 129, a. 3, and the Commentary by Cardinal Cajetan: on magnanimity and humility: their intimate rapport despite their apparent contradiction. See also S. Th. II-II q. 162, a. 3, ad. 1, on how pride impedes indirectly the speculative knowledge of truth and directly the affective knowledge: the proud, through delighting in their own excellence, disdain the excellence of truth.
[X] Dialogue, Treatise on Obedience, c. CLVIII.
[XI] S. Th. I-II q. 4, a. 4.
[XII] S. Th. I-II q. 109, a. 3.
[XIII] S. Th. I-II q. 109, a. 2 & 4.
[XIV] S. Th. I-II q. 113, a. 9, ad. 2: Sed bonum gratiae unius maius est quam bonum naturae totius universi.
[XV] cf. De Veritate, q. 13, a. 2.
[XVI] Rom. VIII, 16.
[XVII] Phil. II, 13.
[XVIII] I Cor. IV, 7.
[XIX] The mystical life properly so-called is characterized by the supernatural mode of gifts of the Holy Spirit, a mode having become both manifest and frequent, while at first, in the ascetic life, was either dormant or transitory. In more simple terms, prayer properly mystical is a passive manifestation; that is, it is not due, as a fruit, to our own activity personally helped by grace. St. Teresa, St. John of the Cross, St. Francis de Sales, and St. Thomas and his School are all entirely in accord on this point. It is true that the gifts of the Holy Spirit are multiplied and magnified with charity, while some souls are distinguished by active gifts and others in contemplative gifts.
[XX] Furthermore, it is necessary to distinguish between the general and remote vocation and the individual and proximate vocation, the latter also capable of being sufficient and efficacious (cf. Salamanticenses de Praedest., Disp. IV, dub. 3) (translator’s note: cf. The Three Ages of the Interior Life vol. II, p. 319-326). St. Thomas notes (cf. S. Th. I-II q. 29, a. 5, ad. 3) that many follow their passions, and their acts depend most of the time on circumstantial influences; few are those that know how to discipline themselves and these are the wise. It is not necessary to conclude that men are not in general called to live in a way truly rational. From the fact that many acorns are lost, can one deny the general law that the acorn is made to produce the oak tree? Likewise, of those who study the doctrine of a St. Augustine or of a St. Thomas, perhaps only half succeed in assimilating to it, effectively reflecting on it, and understanding it well: yet, as Fr. Lamballe points out (La contemplation, p. 70), St. John of the Cross, in The Dark Night bk. I, c. IX, explains very clearly that this understanding of it is not really something extraordinary or transcendent of the laws of the intellective capacity from this point of view (although this passage could seem contrary to this teaching at first glance): "God does not elevate to this [perfect] contemplation all those who desire to reach it walking in the way of the spirit: he chooses not even half, and He alone knows why." Certain commentators do not hesitate, Fr. Lamballe notes, to explain this doctrine in these simple terms: it is the souls that are not elevated to perfect contemplation that are normal; unsurprisingly, therefore, the souls that are elevated to perfect contemplation are the exceptions. Well, St. John says otherwise; and to the proposed question, he responds like St. Augustine to the problem of predestination: among all the faithful called to eternal life, why is one predestined and the other not? God alone knows, says St. Augustine. St. John of the Cross speaks in the same way (Ascent, bk. II, c. V): "For, although it is true that a soul, according to its greater or lesser capacity, may have attained to union, yet not all do so to an equal degree, for this depends upon what the Lord is pleased to grant to each one. It is in this way that souls see God in Heaven…" This is an identical doctrine that is found in St. Thomas (S. Th. I q. 23, a. 5). One must not therefore confuse vocation and predestination: For many are called, but few are chosen. The vocation can be remote, it can be proximate and sufficient, yet without being efficacious. The vocation that is proximate and efficacious ad contemplationem mysticiam is made clear by way of three signs enumerated by St. John of the Cross (Dark Night bk. I, c. IX), and before him by the Dominican Johannes Tauler, whose doctrine on this point is summarized in the Institutions, c. XXXV. But even here, those efficaciously called to mystical contemplation are not all predestined to a high degree of this contemplation, nor to a high perfection. I believe the importance of this point has been sufficiently demonstrated.
by
/
