The solicitude that [St. Louis Bertrand] showed for the temporal interests of the community was but a reflection of another, far more tender concern with which he kept watch over the perfection of his religious. […]
A religious who had received the habit at the monastery of St. Onofre communicated to Fr. Antist his impressions of St. Louis as superior in these terms: “At the time of my profession, I made a general Confession with St. Louis. When I came to a sin from my life in the world, shame made me hesitate. The good priest then exclaimed: ‘Do you then wish to follow in the footsteps of Judas, not accusing yourself of that sin?’ And he described it to me exactly. From then on, I could not help feeling a certain dread whenever I met him, as he evidently knew my slightest faults, even hidden ones. He often admonished me. For example, I had just written a letter without prior authorization. The Father Prior said to me: ‘You wrote a letter.’ On another occasion he revealed to me a fault which no one could have suspected. When I expressed my astonishment, he replied: ‘Do not be troubled. I revealed this fault to you so that you would have no difficulty in confessing it to me, since I already know it.’” […]
This wonderful prerogative could inspire a certain fear. Indeed, if it were given to just any man, it would be an unbearable torment to have one’s most secret thoughts unfold before his eyes like the page of a book. But this divine favour – reserved for the Saints and always used with sweetness, humility, charity, for the good of souls – should inspire all religious of good will with boundless trust.
WILBERFORCE, OP, Bertrand.
“Vie de Saint Louis Bertrand”.
Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1904, p.221-224
