Bl. Gerard Matt

LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF GERARD
By St Bernard of Clairvaux4
◊◊◊
How much better for me, O Gerard, if I had lost my life rather than your
company, since through your tireless inspiration, your unfailing help and under
your provident scrutiny I persevered with my studies of things divine. Why, I
ask, have we loved, why have we lost each other? O cruel circumstance! But pity
pertains to my lot only, not to his.
And the reason, dear brother, is that though you have lost your loved ones,
you have found others more lovable still. As for me, already so miserable, what
consolation remains to me, and you, my only comfort, gone? Our bodily
companionship was equally enjoyable to both, because our dispositions were so
alike; but only I am wounded by the parting. All that was pleasant we rejoiced to
share; now sadness and mourning are mine alone: anger has swept over me, rage
is fastened on me. Both of us were so happy in each other’s company, sharing the
same experiences, talking together about them; now my share of these delights
has ceased and you have passed on, you have traded them for an immense
reward.
What harvest of joys, what a profusion of blessings is yours. In place of my
insignificant person you have the abiding presence of Christ, and mingling with
the angelic choirs you feel our absence no loss. You have no cause to complain
that we have been cut off from you, favored as you are by the constant presence
of the Lord of Majesty and of his heavenly friends. But what do I have in your
stead? How I long to know what you now think about me, once so uniquely
yours, as I sink beneath the weight of cares and afflictions, deprived of the
support you lent to my feebleness! Perhaps you still give thought to our
miseries, now that you have plunged into the abyss of light, become engulfed in
that sea of endless happiness. It is possible that though you once knew us
according to the flesh, you now no longer know us and because you have entered
into the power of the Lord you will be mindful of his righteousness alone,
forgetful of ours.
Furthermore, “he who is united to the Lord becomes one spirit with him,”
his whole being somehow changed into a movement of divine love. He no longer
has the power to experience or relish anything but God, and what God himself
experiences and relishes, because he is filled with God. But God is love, and the
deeper one’s union with God, the more full one is of love. And though God cannot
endure pain, he is not without compassion for those who do; it is his nature to
show mercy and pardon. Therefore you too must of necessity be merciful,
clasped as you are to him who is Mercy; and though you no longer feel the need
of mercy, though you no longer suffer, you cans still be compassionate. Your love
has not diminished but only changed; when you were clothed with God you did
not divest yourself of concern for us, for God is certainly concerned about us. All
that smacks of weakness you have cast away, but not what pertains to love. And
since love never comes to an end, you will not forget me for ever.
It seems to me that I can almost hear my brother saying: “Can a woman
forget the son of her womb? And if she should forget, yet I will not forget you.”
This is how it must be.

4 On The Song Of Songs II Sermon 26.III. Trans. Kilian Walsh. Cistercian Publications 1976. 62-64.