The Pleasure of the Soul 

by Sr. Sabina, Rome

In order to speak about something, and to understand something, we need to start at … the end! Not just "the end" in the sense of our final destination but end as in our ultimate goal. To ask ourselves: what are we oriented towards? What is our aim, where do we want to arrive? Man cannot comprehend himself until he asks himself the question: what am I going towards? 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God (Jn 1, 1), but the English translation does not render the full meaning of the Greek pròs, it does not mean “with”: the Word is not kicking up his heels, so to speak, but is in movement since the beginning. The Word is turned towards God, oriented towards the Father, passionate about the Father. It is his movement that permits us to know the Son! His profound identity is not revealed by the phenomenon of his human origin: Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, the brother of James and Joses and Judah and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us? (Mk 6, 3), but from the burning desire of his heart, that paints a sure way towards the Father: My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work (Jn, 4, 34).

It is definitely more difficult today to comprehend man and reality because no one speaks anymore about the end of things. Already in his day, S. Kierkegaard in his diary, decried, “the cook’s in charge of the ship and that which he transmits through the captain’s megaphone is not the route but what we will eat tomorrow.”

It was clear instead for St. Thomas that “everything is perfect in as much as it reaches its final end, that is its ultimate perfection.” These words give us an excellent criterion for discernment: the truth and goodness of a thing or action is recognizable by its end. Where does this choice lead me? Does it lead me to perfection or to my own diminishment? Which action will lead me directly to that which I want to become? In moments of fear or discouragement it is easy to lose our way: the mechanism of temptation acts precisely on the “overshadow-effect” in which we lose out of sight the greatness of our destiny.

It is clear that to follow this path requires a renunciation of the criteria of immediate convenience, of “like or dislike” which dominates and paralyses us today. It’s a question of “sacrificing our instinctive reaction” which gives us access to a greater freedom and enjoyment, because to orientate myself towards the end for which I was created generates a more profound and immensurable discovery of myself, so much so, that that end can take me and attract me more intuitively and completely than any instinct.

“Now, it is charity that unites us to God who is the ultimate end of the human soul, as St. John says: whoever remains in love remains in God and God in him (1 Jn 4, 16). That is why, the perfection of the Christian life consists above all in charity” (St. Thomas Aquinas).

In light of what has been said, that affirmation of St. Thomas resounds even more, that that ultimate end of our soul, that passion that alone can take us and satisfy us completely, is God himself. We were made for God, as St. Augustine cries out, and for nothing less! And it is love that fulfills our destiny, unites us to God, allows Him to reach us and allows us to let ourselves be transformed by him. Love is the realization, the delight of the soul. Could it be for this reason that so often despite all our efforts to succeed and attain happiness, we fall again tired and unsatisfied? Could it be that we search for the gratification of our eyes, our stomach, the flesh and the mind but we fail to concern ourselves with the pleasure of the soul? The soul, too, desires fulfillment. It is the cry, that, during the time of Advent, the liturgy helps us to express: The Spirit and the Bride say: come! (Rev 22, 17). Come, love without end; come spouse of the soul. Advent is the time in which to cry out that which we lack. And that which the Soul lacks is Christ.


But “this feeling filled by God, and really being so, sometimes is preceded by a feeling of emptiness. It is necessary that all this take place. It is absolutely necessary. Because not even God can fill what is already full. Only what is empty can be filled” (M. Leonardi). To enjoy in the soul begins then with the courage to empty ourselves, or to embrace that emptiness generated in us by the circumstances. Who has not experienced or does not experience, a let down, a failure, the loss of a dream, the incapacity to manage a defect or to overcome a condition of sin? Let this be our emptiness and let us renounce filling it with a thousand allurements. Let us also resist the temptation to numb the sensation. In this way, Jesus can be the one to enter and direct to himself our disorientation. To tell us: take courage; choose charity, now, in this difficult situation. The more you love, the happier you are. The more you love, the more your soul breathes. The more you love, the more you become who you are called to be.


And this love, which is born from the coming of Jesus in us, is boldly concrete. There is nothing more practical, uncomfortable, kneaded with sweat. The love that is born of Christmas is made of cold, straw, pain. While writing these lines the Church receives the gift of Evangelii Gaudium, the Apostolic Exhortation of Pope Francis, which is worth more than its weight in gold to meditate on. Point 88 reminds us that “true faith in the incarnate Son of God is inseparable from self-giving, from membership in the community, from service, from reconciliation with others. The Son of God, by becoming flesh, summoned us to the revolution of tenderness.”