The soul, who is lifted by a very great and yearning desire for

Hear the burning words of Catherine of Siena, mystic, saint, and voice of fire, who declared: “The soul, who is lifted by a very great and yearning desire for the honor of God and the salvation of souls, begins by exercising herself, for a certain space of time, in the ordinary virtues, remaining in the cell of self-knowledge, in order to know better the goodness of God towards her.” These words, woven from prayer and suffering, reveal the ancient path of holiness: that before the soul ascends into great works, she must first be schooled in humility, silence, and the mirror of her own heart.

The origin of this wisdom comes from Catherine’s own life. She was no queen, no noblewoman, but the daughter of a humble dyer in Siena. Yet she rose, through visions and fierce devotion, to advise popes and kings. How did she gain such power? Not by leaping at once into public action, but by dwelling first in the cell of self-knowledge, where she learned to confront her own weakness, to taste the sweetness of God’s mercy, and to be strengthened in the ordinary virtues—patience, obedience, charity. Only then did she step forth into the world as a voice none could ignore.

Catherine reminds us that the soul’s yearning desire must be grounded. Passion without discipline becomes wildfire; zeal without humility collapses into pride. To serve God and others rightly, one must first turn inward, to see the truth of oneself—not to despair, but to recognize the immeasurable goodness of God that upholds even the frailest heart. This is why she speaks of remaining in the cell: it is the place where the noise of the world fades, and the soul learns to see clearly both her own poverty and God’s abundant riches.

Consider the story of Saint Paul the Apostle. After his conversion on the road to Damascus, he did not at once begin his mighty mission. Instead, he withdrew into obscurity for years, learning, praying, dwelling in his own cell of silence. Only after this season of preparation did he emerge to shake empires with his preaching. So too Catherine teaches: before a soul is sent outward into the storm, it must be anchored within.

This truth is echoed across history. Great leaders who neglect the inner life often crumble beneath their own weight. Kings who build empires without humility fall into tyranny; prophets who cry aloud without self-knowledge stumble into hypocrisy. But those who have remained, even for a time, in the discipline of ordinary virtues—those who have faced themselves honestly—emerge with strength that endures. The cell of self-knowledge is not a prison, but a forge.

The lesson, then, is plain: do not despise the small beginnings. Do not imagine that greatness comes by skipping over patience, charity, or humility. To rush past the ordinary virtues is to build on sand. Instead, enter the cell of your own heart. Examine yourself truthfully; see both your frailty and the mercy that sustains you. From this soil will spring a fruit that feeds others; from this humility will grow a courage that cannot be shaken.

Therefore, O listener, walk the path Catherine lays before you. Let your yearning for God and the good of others lift you—but let it drive you first inward, to prayer, to silence, to the training ground of virtue. Do not fear the cell of self-knowledge, for within it lies not condemnation, but the revelation of God’s goodness. From that hidden place, you will rise—not in pride, but in strength—to serve, to heal, to lead. For Catherine speaks truly: the soul that begins with humility is the soul that will ascend to glory.