Impressions of 'De Profundis'

I could not have known that the most touching and poignant depiction of Christ -- his life, character, and teachings, -- would come to me, not from an established mystic, saint, or interpreter of the Gospel, but from an artist in the midst of his first genuine encounter with the Christian legend. Oscar Wilde's 'De Profundis', truly written (as its title proclaims) "from the depths", is a book for the ages, if ever there was one. It is my most wonderful recent discovery, and all the more so as it came to me unexpectedly.

Some weeks ago, I had made a, more or less firm, resolution to read only books written by or about saints (in the wider, but not the widest, sense of the word). In the pages of St. Isaac the Syrian, Dionysius the Areopagate, St. Gregory Nazianzus, and Jean-Pierre de Caussade, I looked and expected to find that rarefied oil which would feed, renew, and revitalize the flame of devotion within me. Yet only when I relaxed myself, and took up the book of a secular man of letters, did I find what I so desperately sought.

Here I discover the most profound and breathtaking meditations on humility, suffering, forgiveness, redemption, and the love which holds nothing back for itself. Again and again, as I read, I am struck 'to the quick', and must stand back, breathe deep, and steady myself for reemergence into this work; into these depths. At times, I must set the book down, and step away, in the awareness that I am not fully present with it; that it is so much greater than myself, and requires so much more of me than I am able to give to it. I am too distracted to do it justice. I must come back to it when I am in a more mellow and reflective mood. I must not squander it on my careless or anxious hours, but preserve it for those times when I am equal, or nearly equal, to it.

So precious is this discovery. Having found it, not as a diamond in the rough, but ready-made, ready-cut, the task left to me now is only to recognize it for the treasure that it is. I must not treat it as a simple pearl or gem of lesser worth. I am to prepare a fitting setting into which this diamond may be placed, and I myself am that setting; I am the ring which must bear it. So I retire for a bit, to shape and polish myself for the honor, and to reflect on what I have found.