Meditation for April 4, The Landslide

When we ascend from St. Laurent du Pont to the Grande Chartreuse, we pass the place the Fathers call the desert, a heap of ruins about eight miles from the monastery. Large cellars dug in the rock have been laid bare; enormous walls are toppling down; rough stones are piled one on top of the other. There, at one time, stood the vast buildings of their distillery.

A few years ago, in the middle of the night, there was a land­slide; the whole side of the mountain loosened itself and slid down. In a few moments the buildings were overturned and the cellars broken open. What before had been a group of buildings some several hundred feet long and two floors high had rolled away. The neighboring road was completely obstructed and the valley of Guiers, on the other side of the road, was almost filled in with the debris.

During the evening of the unfortunate occurrence as well as in the middle of the night the monks had heard ominous noises but had not suspected such an approaching catastrophe. The land which had been worked loose by the action of underground waters slipped away and the havoc was wrought. The fissures no doubt had been there for a long time, but they had remained invisible. It took a crisis to reveal the cause.

We are sometimes surprised by certain manifestations of dis­loyalty in the community. Exteriorly, nothing was evident, but it is certain that underneath, in the depths, a dangerous infiltration was working and a slow erosion was taking place. Can we not rec­ognize now that certain infidelities were the fissures of our spiritual life. We were not careful, at least not so careful as we should have been. Then suddenly one fine morning our spiritual edifice crashes to the ground. The foundations we believed capable of withstand­ing any strain gave way, the strongest pillars crumbled, all was laid waste.

Voluntary negligences at prayer, persistent uncharitableness, wilful disobediences, intentional and more serious faults against poverty are all fissures and, perhaps dreadful fissures. We must be vigilant and center our attention on the slipping mountain.
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Adapted from Meditations for Religious
by Father Raoul Plus, S.J. (© 1939, Frederick Pustet Co.)