The Book of Divine Consolation of the Blessed Angela of Foligno

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Treatise II. Of the Evangelical Doctrine Set Forth by the Blessed Angela

Chapter I. How It May Be Known That God Hath Entered into the Soul

It must be known that God cometh sometimes unto the soul when it hath neither called, nor prayed unto, nor summoned Him. And He doth instil into the soul a fire and a love and a sweetness not customary, wherein it doth greatly delight and rejoice; and it doth believe that this hath been wrought by God Himself there present, but this is not certain. Presently the soul doth perceive that God is inwardly within itself, because — albeit it cannot behold Him within — it doth nevertheless perceive that His grace is present with it, wherein it doth greatly delight. Yet is not even this certain. Presently it doth further perceive that God cometh unto it with most sweet words, wherein it delighteth yet more, and with much rejoicing doth it feel God within it; yet do some doubts still remain, albeit but few.

For the soul possesseth as yet no perfect certainty, neither is it assured that God is truly within it, because such converse and such feelings can be produced likewise by other spirits. Wherefore is it still in doubt. And it seemeth unto me that this cometh either of its own malice and sinfulness, or else truly by the will of God, who desireth not that the soul should feel certain and secure. But when the soul doth feel the presence of God more deeply than is customary, then doth it certify unto itself that He is within it. It doth feel it, I say, with an understanding so marvellous and so profound, and with such great love and divine fire, that it loseth all love for itself and for the body, and it speaketh and knoweth and understandeth those things of the which it hath never heard from any mortal whatsoever.

And it understandeth with great illumination, and with much difficulty doth it hold its peace; and if it doth hold its peace, it holdeth it out of the abundance of its zeal, that it may not be displeasing unto God its Lover nor cause offence, and likewise by reason of its humility; for it desireth not to speak of things so exceeding high that it may not draw attention unto itself. Thus hath it happened divers times unto me, that, out of my burning desire to work the salvation of my neighbour, I did speak things for the which I was reproved, and it was said unto me, "Sister, turn thee again unto the Holy Scriptures, for they say not thus, and therefore do we not understand thee."

But with that feeling whereby it is certified unto the soul that God dwelleth within it, there is given unto it a disposition so perfect that it doth most entirely and verily agree with the soul in all things, and in every way do all the members of the body agree with the soul and do truly form one cause together with it; neither do they rebel against the will of the soul, but do perfectly desire those things which are of God, but which, nevertheless, they had not heretofore in any way desired. And this disposition is granted unto the soul through grace — whereby it doth perceive that the Divine Being hath entered into it, and hath granted it the assurance and the desire of God and of those things which are of God, after the manner of the true love wherewith God hath loved us. Thus doth the soul feel that God is mingled with it and hath made companionship with it.

Further, when God cometh unto the soul, it is sometimes given unto it to behold Him, and it beholdeth Him devoid of any bodily shape or form, and more clearly than doth one man behold another. For the eyes of the soul do behold a spiritual and not a bodily presence, of the which I am not able to speak because words and imagination do fail me. And in very truth the soul doth rejoice in that sight with an ineffable joy and regardeth naught else, because this it is which doth fill it with most inestimable satisfaction. This searching and beholding (whereby God is seen in such a manner that the soul can behold naught else) is so profound that much doth it grieve me that I cannot make manifest aught whatsoever of it, seeing that it is not a thing the which can be touched or imagined or judged of.

Moreover, the soul doth know in many other ways that God hath without doubt entered into it, of the which ways I will now speak of two. One is an holy unction which doth so instantly revive the soul, make meek all the members of the body, and cause them to agree together with the soul, that they cannot be touched or offended by anything whatsoever the which could even in the smallest degree agitate the soul. Therefore doth it feel and hear that God speaketh within it, and by means of this great and in all ways unspeakable unction the soul doth understand with the utmost certainty that God is within it, because no saint nor any angel in Paradise would have power to grant this. But seeing how that it is a thing the which cannot be expressed, it grieveth me that I can find no words wherewith to describe it in comparison of that which it truly is. Wherefore I pray God that He will pardon me, for this is not of mine own will, and if I were able and if it were pleasing unto God, I would make manifest somewhat of His goodness.

The other way whereby the soul knoweth that God is within it is by an embrace which He doth give unto the soul. There is neither father, nor mother, nor son, nor any other person whatsoever who can embrace the object beloved with so great a love as that wherewith God embraceth the soul. For He doth embrace it with such love and draw it unto Himself with such sweetness and gentleness that methinketh there is not a man in the world who can declare it, nor express it, nor believe it unless he hath himself experienced it; and although he might perchance divine somewhat of this love, yet could he not possibly know it as it truly is. Of a surety, God doth implant most sweet love in the soul, the which doth make it burn for Christ alone. And it beareth with it so great a light (whereby it understandeth the fulness of the goodness of God which it experienceth within itself) that it hath understanding of much more than it feeleth within itself.

Then hath it the assurance and certitude that Christ dwelleth within it; but all that we can say is as nothing in comparison with that which it really is. Then the soul hath no more tears, whether of joy or of sorrow or of any other kind, seeing that when the soul hath tears it is in a lower state. For God poureth into the soul an exceeding great sweetness, in a measure so abundant that it can ask nothing more — yea, verily, it would be in Paradise if this should endure, its joy being so great that it filleth the whole body; and all injury which the soul suffereth, whether by deeds or words, is esteemed as naught and is turned into sweetness.

Because of this change in my body, therefore, I was not always able to conceal my state from my companion or from the other persons with whom I did consort, because at times my countenance was all resplendent and rosy and mine eyes shone like unto candles, and at other times I was pale as death, according as the visions did vary. My joy did endure for many days, and some joys have I the which I do think I shall never lose, for I hold them to be full and perfect, nor am I now without them. Wherefore, when sadness cometh upon me, I do instantly bethink me of those joys and am in no ways distressed. There are so many other ways whereby the soul knoweth that God dwelleth within it that I can by no manner of means relate them.

Through the aforesaid things and ways the soul doth know that God hath entered into it, but it hath not yet been told in what manner it doth lodge Him there. And all that hath been said is much less than was said when the soul did lodge the Pilgrim, who is God, because now hath it come to so full an understanding of the divine goodness and infinitude that when I do reflect within myself, I do sometimes perceive most clearly that those persons who do best know God (Who is infinite and unspeakable) are those who do the least presume to speak of Him, considering that all which they do say of Him, or can possibly say, is as nothing compared with what He truly is. Wherefore, if any preacher did verily understand divine things (as I have sometimes heard them declare they do) they would not be able to speak of them, neither would they presume to say aught whatsoever of God, but would remain silent and dumb.

And because God is so much greater than the mind and all other things, we are not able by any means whatsoever to measure, nor speak, nor think of Him, seeing that His goodness cannot perfectly be explained. This doth not happen because the soul hath lost all bodily sense, or hath cast off the body itself, but because it understandeth without the aid of the senses. Wherefore, when man perceiveth these things with his understanding he falleth into so great an amazement that (in so far as it may be expressed in bodily words) if some preacher were in this state and it behoved him to speak of God, however worthy and able he might be, he would say unto the people, "Get ye gone, for I know not how to speak unto you of God."

Wherefore do I believe and declare that all that which hath been said either in writing or by the mouths of men since ever the world began hath in no wise described the true nature of the divine goodness, but is as the half of a millet seed compared with the whole world. But when the soul is assured of God and is refreshed by His presence, the body doth likewise receive health and satisfaction and nobility, and is refreshed together with the soul, albeit in a less degree. Then do reason and the soul, thus refreshed, speak unto the body and unto the senses, saying: "Behold how great are the benefits God hath bestowed upon thee through me, and bethink thee how infinitely greater are those which have been promised and will be faithfully paid if thou wilt only follow me. Consider likewise how many and how great benefits we have already lost, thou and I, because thou hast not conformed unto me, but hast gone contrary unto me.

Wherefore must thou in future be in all ways obedient unto the things of God." And immediately the body doth submit itself unto the soul and the senses unto reason, and perceiving how that it shareth in the delights of the soul it maketh answer thus: "My delights have heretofore been bodily and vile, because I am a body; but thou who wert of great nobility and able to enjoy divine delights, thou shouldst not have yielded unto me, causing us both to lose such great benefits." Thus doth the body lament against the soul, and the senses against reason, with a long but most sweet lamentation, and perceiving the delights of the soul to be greater than it had imagined, it doth render obedience in all things.