Saturday, March 01, 2014

Let the children come to me

Painting by Vogel Von Vogelstein
Then were little children presented to him, that he should impose hands upon them and pray. And the disciples rebuked them.But Jesus said to them: Suffer the little children, and forbid them not to come to me: for the kingdom of heaven is for such.And when he had imposed hands upon them, he departed from thence. (St Matthew 10:13)
You know, Mother, I have always wanted to be a saint. Alas! I have always noticed that when I compared myself to the saints, there is between them and me the same difference that exists between a mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds and the obscure grain of sand trampled underfoot by passers-by. Instead of becoming discouraged, I said to myself: God cannot inspire unrealizable desires. I can, then, in spite of my littleness, aspire to holiness. It is impossible for me to grow up, and so I must bear with myself such as I am with all my imperfections. But I want to seek out a means of going to heaven by a little way, a way that is very straight, very short, and totally new. We are living now in an age of inventions, and we do not have to take the trouble of climbing stairs, for, in the homes of the rich, an elevator has replaced these very successfully. I wanted to find an elevator which would raise me to Jesus, for I am too small to climb the rough stairway of perfection. I searched, then, in the Scriptures for some sign of this elevator, the object of my desires, and I read these words coming from the mouth of Eternal Wisdom: "Whoever is a little one, let him come to me” (Prv 9:4). I felt I had found what I was looking for. But wanting to know, O my God, what you would do to the very little one who answered your call, I continued my search and this is what I discovered: “As one whom a mother caresses so will I comfort you; you shall be carried at the breasts and upon the knees they shall caress you" (Is 66,13). Ah! never did words more tender and more melodious come to give joy to my soul. The elevator which must raise me to heaven is your arms, O Jesus! And for this I had no need to grow up, but rather I had to remain little and become this more and more. O my God, You surpassed all my expectation. I want only to sing to Your mercies (Ps 89:2) (St Therese)