Animam suam in manibus suis semper tenens,
placide obdormivit in Domino
Always keeping his soul in his hands,
He calmly fell asleep in the Lord
(tombstone of St. Frei Galvão)
In This Chapter
We need to keep a distance from things, not run after them or like to have them run after us. Think before you act in a calm, collected, and quiet atmosphere.
This is what can be called psychological distance—the degree of emotional detachment maintained regarding a person, asset, or group of people. It is an inner distance analogous but different from physical distance. You can be beside an object but keep a psychological distance from it.
It is necessary to think practically and concretely so that what you do is well done. But at the same time, this must be accompanied by an elevated thought, for deep down, every practical thing is related to general and universal problems with its own incomparable beauty.
Repose
One needs to approach things that make up everyday life with the majesty of a great battleship mooring at a pier and not like some small boat. The great battleship makes a slow and dignified movement as it approaches the port, so we must approach reality. No rush or frenzy.[1] Wisdom prescribes that one does whatever is necessary without excitement, with psychological distance,[2] that is, calmly, in a collected and quiet atmosphere where it is possible to think before acting.
In the Catholic view, whenever you delve deeper into a matter, you do not find an abyss but Heaven. At the end of each perspective is a star, not an abyss, snake or dragon. It is a question of knowing how to delve deep into matters.[3]
Sometimes, the sense of peril disappears, man relaxes entirely, and things return to their proper place. That is precisely what I call repose. It does not happen in feverish activity.
A merchant can spend all day working in his store. At night, when the business is closed, he goes home and finds an environment so different from his store that he is forced to stop thinking about business. His commercial agitation subsides, the hierarchy of values is re-established, and he can have psychological distance. He who has no repose or recollection has no psychological distance.[4]
Clemenceau and Psychological Distance in Victory
At the end of World War I, when news arrived that the armistice with the Germans had been signed and that France, Britain, and the United States were victorious over the central empires, a French military graduate broke the news to Clemenceau, president of the Council of Ministers and considered one of the principal architects of the victory.
Clemenceau lived in a house surrounded by a little garden. At about five o’clock, the officer entered his room and informed him of the victory. He was very pleased and commented on the event. Then he dressed and did what he did every morning: arrange the flowers in his little garden. Only afterward did he go to the Ministry. This man’s remarkable psychological distance indicates enormous self-mastery. He knew that the day would be a journey of glory, and indeed, he was applauded by crowds. It was the great day of his life, but since the city was still asleep and there was no manifestation, he quietly went to tend to his little garden.
I find this a remarkable example of psychological distance, very different from what one could imagine of any other great man upon receiving the most significant news of his life.
Would it be ideal for a Catholic to act in such circumstances? No. The perfect way is to get up, give thanks to Our Lady, spend much time in prayer, and go to Communion. This would be the correct religious position, but here, I want to show the psychological distance displayed by this revolutionary. As such, it is interesting. [5]
In the Holy Sepulcher, St. John Gives Precedence to St. Peter
“And he arrived first to the sepulcher. Leaning down, he saw the sheets lying on the ground but did not enter.” [6] Saint John’s love led him to go quickly to the sepulcher, but the same love led him to give precedence to the one to whom Our Lord had given precedence. He did not enter but waited for St. Peter to enter first. In its very beginning, here is the hierarchical spirit of the Church.
St. John had run to reach the tomb, but it was not a race without psychological distance. It was an orderly run without haste. He was so balanced and holy that he stopped as he arrived, “holding his soul in his hands” animam suam in manibus suis semper tenebat.[7] He stopped and waited for St. Peter to arrive. What respect, what reverence! [8]
St. Pius V’s vision of the triumph at Lepanto
St. Pius V and the Battle of Lepanto[9]
St. Pius V was in the Vatican, far from enemies and events, in a situation younger generations would easily consider distressing. A pope involved in a faraway battle must be excited for these new generations. If he does not, it is because he is a little out of it and does not understand the situation. He should have been tearing his hair, pacing through Vatican corridors, sending emissaries to get news and protesting because they did not arrive.
While St. Pius V was keenly committed to winning that battle, he remained serene. What was he doing when the battle was about to begin? He was examining Vatican accounts. Even as the fight unfolded, he oversaw the accounts because it was a mortal sin if he did not. If someone stole something from the Church because of a lack of attention, he would be conniving with the thief; a saint never plays around with matters of mortal sin.
Accordingly, the pope devoted all the necessary attention to that matter. Suddenly, as if touched by an angel, he figures that Our Lady wants to tell him something, goes to a window and has an ecstasy. He returns and breaks the news: “Dom John of Austria[10] has won at Lepanto.” [11]
“Chapter-general of the Knights of Saint-John of Jerusalem, convoked at Rhodes by Grand Master Fabrizzio Caretto, to obtain subsidies to resist an expected assault on Rhodes by the Ottoman sultan Suleiman I in 1514”
Claude Jacquand – 1839 – Images from the Salles des Croisades at Versailles; Salle 5
Council Meeting of the Order of Malta
In this engraving, one can observe the calm of the Grand Master, his psychological distance and his half-oblique gaze. He is not looking at anyone in particular but has the diffuse distrust of someone who scrutinizes the group gathered there. Diffuse distrust of a leader worried about the possibility that some adversary may suddenly climb the fortress’ walls. His physiognomy is saying, Tu quoque? [12] The dominion he exercises over everyone is an effect of this psychological distance.
The Grand Master is a splendid type. This old man embodies a magnificent theory of command in a military and sacral order. He is undoubtedly a full-fledged military man, and one can imagine him fighting at any moment. He has the body of an army man and the countenance of a general but the gaze of a man of thought and action, a diplomat. Nothing describes a Grand Master of the Order of Malta better than this picture.[13]
The Lion as a Symbol of Serenity
I could not find a definition of the word serenity that I thoroughly liked, so I will not give a definition but a description.
The lion is an entirely adequate image of this quality. When he roars, even eagles and ants flee, snakes curl up, and he dominates nature. But after the necessary roar, he lies down, crosses his paws and looks on. It is exciting to note that he rests with his paws crossed one over the other. One can see in resting lion photographs that he pleasantly entertains and distracts himself. Curiously, while the lion is an animal and has no thought, his way of lying is as if he were thinking like a man when he rests.
What does a man think about when he rests? He does not think about stressful things. Several aspects of life pass before him, and he looks and reflects a little. The “memory” of everything left behind has disappeared in the resting lion. The only thing that remains is the instinct to react if something strange arises. If that occurs, his gaze becomes attentive. And if something moves suspiciously in the surrounding woods, his attitude naturally changes from repose to vigilance. He is at rest, but if something odd or appetizing moves amid the bush, he looks at it and mobilizes all his muscles but still does not move.
In a third moment, neither late nor lazy, he jumps on the prey. During his rest, he had not lost his psychological distance, as if saying, “I am not going to get up now but will let that appetizing lunch go by.” No way! It’s an appetizing prey, and catching it is what a lion is for. He jumps, crushes some wildcat, and goes back to rest. It is an image of pensive, cogitative serenity without fatigue.[14]
Our Lady at the Annunciation
The Gospel says, “And the angel being come in said unto her…” [15] The phrase gives the impression that it was a secluded, isolated place; the action of entering indicates the idea of recollection, a cloister, something one does not violate.
Our Lady was alone, which is the apex of what everyone detests: being alone, isolated, unknown, seen as decadent, and even worse, praying in isolation. This is the person to whom the message comes.
One can think of the angel, hovering in the highest celestial places, who receives a huge mission and goes where one could least imagine: a hamlet, a small couple, a woman locked in her room, to deliver the most essential message in history. It is wonderful to see how all this is suggested in the language of the Gospel.
One imagines the angel descending in an entirely reassuring, affable and peaceful fashion, but that is not what happened. In all visions of Our Lady I have read, something terrible in the vision’s appearance instills fear. The idea of affability and kindness does come in, but the one that remains is that of fear. The Fatima shepherds and the children of La Salette felt fear. The same thing happened with Saint Bernadette Soubirous. The disproportion between the two different natures is so fabulously majestic that it produces fear.
After the angel’s greeting, her reaction. Anyone else might think, “Now they’ve understood my real worth and finally do me justice.” Yet the Gospel says that Our Lady, “having heard these words, was troubled and thought with herself what manner of salutation this should be.” [16] It is a manifestation of excellent psychological distance. She was troubled by these words; that is, she paid enough attention to understand the content of what was said, and this disturbed her.
“And she thought with herself.” This beautiful expression indicates that she thoughtfully analyzed the message, wondering what the salutation might mean. In Our Lady’s mind, it was something so high and with all characteristics of having come from God that it required a rational, word-by-word analysis of what had been said to her.
That is also what we should do: not lose our calm even when facing the most amazing, unexpected or marvelous thing, but think it over attentively with ourselves.[17]
Notes:
[1] 11-19-71.
[2] See definition in the introduction to this chapter.
[3] 11-3-68.
[4] 4-29-67.
[5] 1-9-69.
[6] Jn 20:5.
[7] Epitaph on the tomb of St. Anthony Santana Galvão at Convento da Luz (São Paulo).
[8] 4-5-69.
[9] The naval battle of Lepanto, between Catholics and Muslims, took place on October 7, 1571.
[10] Dom John of Austria was the constable of Christian forces and won the battle of Lepanto, marking the decline of Mohammedan power.
[11] 5-24-71.
[12] Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi? (You too, Brutus, my son?) Sentence attributed to Julius Caesar when he was assassinated by Marcus Junius Brutus.
[13] 9-27-67.
[14] 5-7-86.
[15] Lk 1:28.
[16] Lk 1:29.
[17] 25-3-65.