Seventeenth Elevation
Sweet heart, refuge of the hidden life
Eighth desire of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus: our refuge in the holy Tabernacle
I
Reflection – A refuge is a place of salvation, a place assured against danger; a place forbidden or inaccessible to law or force. Churches used to offer this inviolable right of asylum to criminals pursued by the law. A touching figure of divine mercy, a precious allusion to the tender compassion of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus who, unable to open himself to unrepentant sinners, at least opens his sanctuary to them, trying to win them over to him in order to save them.
II
Jesus – I am a hidden God, the God and Savior of Israel[1], and having once shown myself among men, I, the first, in order to escape their pursuits, had to take refuge in a sanctuary… in my Eucharist, so as not to die at their hands.
There some still continue to pursue me, raising their impious clamors against me, but their blows wound only my Heart, and I can suffer their outrages without being forced to leave them. If they drive me out of my frail shell by destroying it, I withdraw into my glory, but immediately I return because I have promised to remain with you until the end!
To you too, my friends, who follow me in my abasements and live unrecognized in the face of the tragedies of the world, is there not a refuge on this earth and a place of rest? Ah, let this be the tabernacle of God with men[2]; come and hide with me in God my Father; come and seek shelter from the weight of the day and the heat, from the spirit of darkness that prowls about at night[3].
Come, you who often console my sadness, I will console yours, and those other secret sorrows which you do not confide to anyone. Knock at this little door, and I will always open it. The frightened child who throws himself upon the bosom of his moved mother, the lost son who takes refuge in the arms of a tender father, find nothing so sweet as the sweetness of this rest under my sacred roof, after the fatigue of work and in the weariness of life’s struggles.
There, like the beloved disciple leaning on my heart, you will learn to know him; and when you know him, you will never leave him, for your heart made in his image will never be satisfied with anything but him.
III
The soul – Why, my Lord, does the hidden life need a refuge? Is it not the refuge itself? Does not the cloister defend against the spirit of the world? and if, being in the world, I am not of the world[4], am I not preserved?
Alas, on this poor earth full of dangers, one escapes from one enemy only to find others, and I would certainly fall into their power, wherever I might be, if your altars, O God of virtues, did not offer me a refuge[5].
Does the despised world allow him who refuses its yoke to retire in peace? Does not the devil, jealous of my rest before the loss of his, know the paths of my retreat? and nature? … is not nature, alas! tyrannical, inconstant and alive in myself, my perfidious and inseparable companion?
There is therefore only well before in your Heart, O Jesus-Hostia, where certainly the devil has never penetrated, where the world cannot enter, where nature shudders to approach, there is only in these too unknown depths that I can be in perfect safety. Ah, good Jesus, open them for me!
But they are open, you tell me. Why am I not there? Is the obstacle in myself? Would habits and attachments incompatible with the sanctity of this sacred place exclude me? Would I already be dominated by those powers that I fear and hindered by them in my impulses towards you?
If it were so, Lord Jesus, oh! I beseech you, deliver me; do not wait for me, but come yourself: Break down these iron bars, open the doors of this odious prison, uncover for me the treasures of grace buried[6] in my soul for so many years without producing anything but my condemnation; let a ray of light enter it, O Jesus, and then I shall see clearly, truth shall show me the way; I shall go and knock with humble confidence at the door of the sacred refuge where your Eucharistic Heart rests, and if, being too soiled, I cannot yet enter, if I am not worthy to rest in you, well! I will return to myself, I will purify myself as best I can, and in my turn, I will call you to your holy table in a communion full of confidence and hope; you will then be compelled to come, O good Jesus, I will receive you with humble love in this miserable heart; and while waiting for you to give me to be all yours, I will have you all mine, and I will be able to say with faith in your mercies: Since He who created me deigned to rest in my tabernacle, how could He deny me for a long time to come what He Himself desires: my rest in His own? … qui creavit me requievit in tabernaculo meo[7].
18th Elevation: Heart master of the secrets of divine union
[1] Cf. Is. XLV, 15.
[2] Cf. Apoc. XXI, 3.
[3] Cf. I Petr. V, 8.
[4] Cf. John VIII, 23.
[5] Cf. Ps. LXXXIII, 4.
[6] Cf. PS. CXVII, 19: Eccli. XXVI,1.
[7] Eccli. XXIV, 12.