The Eyes to See Who You Truly Are
St. Catherine of Siena often exhorted her disciples to “open your mind’s eye to the mercy of God.” She urges us all to acknowledge the graces and blessings of God, viewing them with the spiritual “eyes that see” (Matt. 13:16).
Yet often that’s easier said than done, especially when we’re immersed in the chaos and ongoing trauma of a manipulative or betraying relationship.
Although a saint—someone we now look up to and often view as spiritually superior or even “untouchable”—St. Catherine of Siena was human just like the rest of us. She struggled just as we struggle, she doubted just as we often doubt. She grieved and she mourned.
Yet she also listened closely to the words of Jesus, her Divine Bridegroom.
At one point in her life when she was undergoing severe temptations in the form of disturbing thoughts, Caterina began to doubt the presence of God within her soul. Previously she’d been able to feel His presence, with His consolations guiding and strengthening her, but now she felt nothing except the grief of her own mind. She begged the Lord for the gift of courage, but seemed to experience nothing in return. When finally her time of temptation was over, yet still in great pain, Caterina confronted Jesus:
‘“Oh good gentle Jesus! And where were you when my soul was in such distress?” Then gentle Jesus, spotless Lamb, answered: “I was in your heart. I was with you, for I am unchanging. I never leave anyone who does not leave Me first through deadly sin.”
(Letter T221; this incident was also recorded by Caterina’s spiritual director, Raimondo da Capua, in The Life of Catherine of Siena, #110)
Often the Lord is so close we can’t even feel Him—yet He is truly there, within us, dwelling in our hearts and souls, and even dwelling physically in our bodies through reception of the most holy Eucharist.
Despite our Lord’s promise, Caterina felt troubled His words—not because she lacked faith in Jesus’ mercy or truth, but because she lacked faith in herself. She saw herself as bruised and broken, fractured and fragile. How could Jesus be present in a heart so full of torment, so full of “abominable thoughts”?
Perhaps you can relate—I know I certainly can. There had been a time in my life when I’d been overwhelmed with the grief of my situation. How could God dwell in a heart so broken? I’d believed the lies told against me—that I was unloving and unlovable, stupid and naïve, selfish and mean. How could God possibly love in such a corrupt heart?
Caterina struggled with the same. She felt wretched and alone, abandoned by the God she loved and desired. She longed to open her mind’s eye to know God’s love for her, knowing intellectually that “in love God has given [us] the Word, His only-begotten Son. And the Son has given [us] life with such burning love; He has opened up His body to make His Blood a bath for us” (Letter T247 to Monna Giovanna di Corrado Maconi). Yet what she understood with her intellect wasn’t corresponding with what she felt in her heart.
Although Jesus claimed to be within her, Caterina felt nothing, and so she implored Him:
“How can I believe that you were present in my heart at a time when it was filled with nothing but obscene and abominable thoughts? How could I be next to the fire and not feel the warmth? And I didn’t feel anything but freezing cold, sadness, and grief! It seemed to me I was filled with deadly sins.”
In agony she waited until finally within her mind’s eye words began to form; she could hear with her soul as Jesus responded:
“Tell me, was it joy or sadness that those thoughts or temptations evoked within your heart? Was it delight or grief?”
With burning tears of fire Caterina responded, “It was with deepest sadness and grief.”
And so Jesus continued, “Who, then, caused you to grieve? Was it not myself, hidden in your heart’s core? If I had not been there, those thoughts would have made an entrance into your inmost heart.”
It can certainly feel like thoughts of doubt, despair, and self-loathing have made an entrance into our hearts, but we must remember that as long as we’re dedicated to Jesus—with frequent reception of the Eucharist and Holy Confession—nothing can penetrate our inmost heart. We may be numb to who God created us to be, but we haven’t lost that part of ourselves. When we grieve, God is helping us process our wounds so we can come to a greater level of union with Him. He’s inviting us deeper into His Sacred Heart just as He’s asking for greater entrance into our hearts.
Caterina’s racing and troublesome thoughts caused her doubt and despair—something she didn’t want to feel. Had she given in to them, acedia—spiritual sloth—would have taken root. “When a person is struggling with spiritual sloth, they become so discouraged that they refuse the joy that comes from God and are even repelled by divine goodness. For them, God holds no promise of hope and there is no enthusiasm in practicing faith. They doubt the providence and power of God, unable to believe that God cares about them or would do anything to help them” (Marge Steinhage Fenelon, Defend Us in Battle: The Promises of St. Michael and the Heavenly Angels).
Acedia is a temptation from the evil one, particularly acute for those on the road to sanctity. Like Caterina, we need to fight the temptation to give in to our disturbing thoughts, to the lies and self-condemnation that tend to strike our minds and wound our hearts. Instead of sinking into the trap of despair, Caterina sought her Bridegroom in prayer, desiring to see herself as He saw her. In another vision Jesus said to Caterina,
“Do you know who you are and who I Am? If you know these two things you have beatitude in your grasp. You are she who is not, and I Am He Who Is. Let your soul but become penetrated with this truth, and the Enemy can never lead you astray; you will never be caught in any snare of his, nor ever transgress any commandment of Mine; you will have set your feet on the royal road which leads to the fulness of grace, and truth, and light.
(Raimondo da Capua, Life, #92)
Through this vision she could see her true self rather than the false perceptions of her mind or the lies of the evil one. Of her own merits she was but a helpless child, yet through Christ who strengthened her she could do all things.
As was so common with nearly all medieval mystics, the Song of Songs vibrated within Caterina’s breast. “How beautiful you are, My love, how beautiful you are! You are wholly beautiful, My love, and without a blemish!” she could clearly hear her Bridegroom sing to her soul (Song of Songs 4:1,7).
Pray for the eyes to see, for the gift of being able to view yourself as Jesus sees you—made in His image and likeness, precious and unique. It’s easy to get caught in despair and temptations, to feel dryness in prayer and to wonder where God is in all your mess.
The answer: He is enthroned as King of your heart. Welcome Him, and ask Him to fill all the broken cracks with His precious Blood, making you whole once again. And remember—even when you don’t feel Him, He’s still there.
Often, He’s so close He can’t be felt. And that’s when you’re the most cherished and protected.
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This clears up so much confusion. My heart is so tattered that it seems impossible that it could be pleasing to our Lord. Thank you Jenny and St. Catherine of Sienna for untangling this knot of pain and confusion.