A reflection by Anne-Marie Bos, a Carmelite sister of the Dutch Province.

John Dons, an inmate who had to portray the camp-leaders, also made drawings of a few of his fellow-inmates. The drawing he made of Titus became famous and in it we see Titus as John Dons pictured him: a man in the wrong suit.

It doesn’t fit at all.
He has accepted it
and made it his own with his watch and his pencil,
that doesn’t seem to belong to this soldier’s garment.
On this garment his number, 58,
and the triangle, red as a sign of political inmate.
His famous lock is shaved.

Also in this face of Titus I see different expressions.
I see sadness in his face, but also a small smile.
The right and the left side of the face differ.
When I look at his eyes,
I see that he is looking and not-looking at the same time.
As if he is staring at something beyond, at a far horizon.
It seems like he is knowing.
His firm fist on the table presents determinedness.
His mouth is closed, and shows a tension.

I see that he is looking friendly, mild,
but also determined and with a concern.
He shows compassion.

Time after time, my eyes are drawn to his eyes.
I see sovereignty, mercy, kindness, compassion.
Looking at this face, makes me calm.
In this drawing, Titus is personal and close-by.
Like he is listening with attention, with compassion.

At the same time, the picture screams silence:
silence and simplicity.

Michael Plattig, O.Carm.,

An essential characteristic of spiritual life in the Judaeo-Christian tradition is that it describes a historical or, rather, biographical development. Christian spirituality is characterised by concepts such as development, growth, maturation, progression, advance, pilgrimage and ascent. Development and maturation belong to the core of the spiritual life, if it is to be understood as an imitation of Christ. Teresa of Avila explains this in the following words:

“If you do not strive for the virtues and practice them, you will always be dwarfs. And, please God, it will be only a matter of not growing, for you already know that whoever does not increase decreases. I hold that love, where present, cannot possibly be content with remaining always the same.”

Interior Castle VII,4,9[1]

Various images and comparisons, various systemisations to describe this process of Christian maturation are to be found in the course of history. A feature they all have in common is the description of a positive development in the sense of personal improvement or, rather, in the sense of intensification of personal encounters with God. This is not a matter of smooth, ever ascending biographies. On the contrary, breaks, leaps and bounds, detours and crises necessarily form part of the Christian concept of growth, for they are often just the impetus towards the next step in the maturation process.[2] The traditional concept for this growth, which also implies transformation, is “transformatio”. Kees Waaijman, my fellow brother from the Netherlands and former director of the Titus Brandsma Institute in Nijmegen, made “transformatio” the central concept in his definition of spirituality: “Spirituality is the ongoing transformation which occurs in involved relationality with the Unconditional.” This definition is not necessarily Christian or Judaeo-Christian, as “Unconditional” leaves the concept of God open, allowing me to decide on an unequivocally Judaeo-Christian view and to choose the following definition: “Spirituality is the ongoing transformation of a human being replying to God’s call.” This definition emphasizes that the initiative originates from God and presupposes that a human’s reply is, of course, always relational, that is, it is made at points in time and space, in the world, and in the context of a human’s relationships with himself and with other people. However, decisive for spirituality is the relationship with God, which is both personal and dialogical.

A certain hierarchy of relationships is to be found in the Old and New Testaments:

“Listen, Israel: Yahweh our God is the one, the only Yahweh. You must love Yahweh your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength. Let the words I enjoin on you today stay in your heart. You shall tell them to your children, and keep on telling them, when you are sitting at home, when you are out and about, and when you are lying down and when you are standing up; you must fasten them on your hand as a sign and on your forehead as a headband; you must write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

Deuteronomy 6:4-9

“One of the scribes who had listen to them debating appreciated that Jesus had given a good answer and put a further question to him, ‘Which is the first of all the commandments?’ Jesus replied, ‘This is the first: Listen Israel, the Lord our God is the one, only Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is: You must love your neighbour as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these’.”

Mark 12:28-31

So transformation also means development in a personal relationship with God, which will express itself in the love of one’s neighbour and of self. This is also the criterion for the authenticity of a human’s love of God in accordance with the discernment of spirits.

“I think the most certain sign that we keep these two commandments is that we have a genuine love for others. We cannot know whether we love God although there may be strong reasons for thinking so, but there can be no doubt about whether we love our neighbour or not. Be sure that in proportion as you advance in fraternal charity, you are increasing in your love of God, for His Majesty bears so tender an affection for us that I cannot doubt He will repay our love for others by augmenting, in a thousand different ways, that which we bear for Him.”

Interior Castle V,3

The guide on this way, as with all designs of Christian spirituality, is God Himself, or rather the Holy Spirit (cf. Matthew 28:20; Galatians 4:6: 5:18-25; Romans 8:15f, etc.).[3] Yet this presents the problem of discernment of spirits:

“My dear friends, do not trust every spirit, but test the spirits, to see whether they are from God; for there are many false prophets about in the world.”

1 John 4:1

Therefore, St Paul urges: “... test them all; keep hold of what is good...” (1 Thessalonians 5:21), and counts the ability to discern spirits as one of the charisms (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:10). Thus growth in itself is not a criterion for the spiritual. Spiritual growth can be characterised more precisely as growth guided by God’s good Spirit. Various sets of criteria have been developed in the history of Christian spirituality to characterise and distinguish this growth. Describing them would be beyond the scope and object of this article.[4] The interesting aspect in the present context is the characterisation of Christian growth as a growth towards freedom, that is, the characterisation of the working of the Spirit as a process of increasing liberation from various kinds of dependence and slavery.

The initiate’s stage is often characterised by suffering from an existing false life. Faced with the desire for a life in abundance (cf. John 10:10), the present situation of need, want and dependence is no longer repressed. Man departs and his desire shows him the way.

St John of the Cross describes God’s guidance in this process as follows:

“Since the conduct of these beginners in the way of God is lowly and not too distant from love of pleasure and of self, … God desires to withdraw them from this base manner of loving and lead them on to a higher degree of divine love. And he desires to liberate them from the lowly exercise of the senses and of discursive meditation, by which they go in search of him so inadequately and with so many difficulties, and lead them into the exercise of spirit, in which they become capable of a communion with God that is more abundant and more free of imperfections. … when God sees that they have grown a little, he weans them from the sweet breast so that they might be strengthened, lays aside their swaddling bands, and puts them down from his arms that they may grow accustomed to walking by themselves. This change is a surprise to them because everything seems to be functioning in reverse.”

Dark Night I,8,3[5] 

Becoming a Christian person therefore means growing to maturity, and this is a task of discerning, of separating. Regressive infantilism, longing in a certain sense to return to the womb, should therefore be distinguished from creatively giving shape to spiritual childhood in the correct proportion of dependence, freedom and self-reliance. St John of the Cross uses the words “librar” and “más libres” to describe this process. Thus he describes the process, initiated by God and therefore guided by the Spirit, as liberating.

Teresa of Avila

To Teresa, it is beyond question that God is completely different, the Majesty, infinitely greater than any worldly king, powerful person or majesty:

“O King of Glory and Lord of all kings! How true that Your kingdom is not armed with trifles, since it has no end! How true that there is no need for intermediaries with You! Upon beholding Your person one sees immediately that You alone, on account of the majesty You reveal, merit to be called Lord. ... O my Lord! O my King! Who now would know how to repre­sent Your majesty! It’s impossible not to see that You in Yourself are a great Emperor, for to behold Your majesty is startling; and the more one beholds along with this majesty, Lord, Your humility and the love You show to someone like myself the more startling it becomes. Nevertheless, we can converse and speak with You as we like, once the first fright and fear in beholding Your majesty passes; although the fear of offending You becomes greater. But the fear is not one of punishment, for this punishment is considered nothing in comparison with losing You.”

Life 37,6

This is recognition of the sovereign power, of the different nature of God. From this, humility and fear of God are developed. That is, being in awe of God, not being afraid of God. Teresa words it as follows:

“Humility, no matter how deep, does not make the soul restless, anxious or confused, but brings it peace, inner joy and calmness.”

Way of Perfection 39,3[6] 

At the same time, Teresa is also convinced of the dignity of human beings, because the Trinity dwells in them:

“This vision differs from others, as this intuitive understanding derives its power from faith; it is of such a nature that one cannot doubt that the Trinity dwells in our souls, as a presence and through its power and consistent with its nature. It is very important to understand this truth. And when I was so amazed to find such a high Majesty in something as lowly as my soul, I understood: it is not low, My daughter, as it has been created in My image.”

Spiritual Testimonies 41 

Awe, the recognition of the greatness of God, makes a human broad and open to anything that God wishes to give him. It does not erase boundaries. It allows God to be God and allows the human being to reach out to this greater God, aware of his own finiteness and neediness. Fear of this great God, on the other hand, makes one narrow and closed; fear takes away one’s breath of life and one’s dignity as a creature of God created in His image. Teresa of Avila underlines the dignity and beauty of the soul in the following words:

“For in reflecting upon it carefully, Sisters, we realize that the soul of the just person is nothing else but a paradise where the Lord says He finds His ‘delight’. So then, what do you think that abode will be like where a King so powerful, so wise, so pure, so full of all good things takes His delight? I don’t find anything comparable to the magnificent beauty of a soul and its marvellous capacity. Indeed, our intellects, however keen, can hardly comprehend it, just as they cannot comprehend God; but He Himself says that He created us in His own image and likeness. Well if this is true, as it is, there is no reason to tire ourselves in trying to comprehend the beauty of this castle. Since this castle is a creature and the difference, therefore, between it and God is the same as that between the Creator and His creature, His Majesty in saying that the soul is made in His own image makes it almost impossible for us to understand the sublime dignity and beauty of the soul.”

Interior Castle I,1,1

God’s indwelling in humans is not static. It is not hidden in the tabernacle of the heart, so to speak. It is more dynamic, like a walk in a garden, a museful contemplation, and it gives God and the human being satisfaction and pleasure. God’s indwelling in humans is fulfilling and joyful.

Based on her own painful experiences, Teresa urges her sisters:

“So beware, daughters, of certain feelings of humility which the devil inculcates in you and which make you very uneasy about the gravity of your past sins: ‘Do I deserve to approach the Sacrament?’, ‘Am I properly prepared?’, ‘I am not worthy to live among good people’. These and similar thoughts should indeed be appreciated when they are linked to inner peace and delight and a good feeling that come with self-knowledge. However, when they are linked to confusion and unease and distress of the soul and an inability to calm down your thoughts, then trust that it is a temptation and do not consider yourself as humble, because such things do not come from humility.”

Way of Perfection 67,5

Teresa encourages her sisters to maintain an informal contact with God, especially during prayer. Special words, a specific pose or specific dispositions are not required to get in touch with God and to talk with Him. What she refers to is free prayer from a free heart, based on trust, that is, faith.

“Leave aside any of that faintheartedness that some persons have and think is humility. You see, humility doesn’t consist in refusing a favour the King offers you but in accepting such a favour and understanding how bountifully it comes to you and being delighted with it. What a nice kind of humility! … Have nothing to do with this kind of humility, daughters, but speak with Him as with a father, or a brother, or a lord, or as with a spouse; sometimes in one way, at other times in another; He will teach you what you must do in order to please Him. Don’t be foolish; take Him at His word. Since He is your Spouse, He will treat you accordingly. [Consider that it is well worthwhile for you to have understood this truth: that the Lord is within us, and that there we must be with Him.].”

Way of Perfection 28,3

Teresa comes to this conviction by contemplating the human nature of Jesus, by orienting herself towards the biblical message and through her inner dialogue with God, which she describes as follows:

“There is nothing here to fear but only something to desire. Even if there be no great progress, or much effort in reaching such perfection as to deserve the favours and mercies God bestows and the more generous, at least a person will come to understand the road leading to heaven. And if one perseveres, I trust then in the mercy of God, who never fails to repay anyone who has taken Him for a friend. For mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.”

Life 8,5

Teresa’s definition does not lead to an interiority that is out of touch with the real world, but emphasizes that inner prayer and work, that is, inner and outer activities, complement one another and should not be played off against one another:

“Well, come now, my daughters, don’t be sad when obedience draws you to involvement in exterior matters. Know that if it is in the kitchen, the Lord walks among the pots and pans helping you both interiorly and exteriorly.”

Foundations 5,8

One may chuckle at these lines, yet they explain in a simple way what Teresa means. To her, there is no separation between church service and world service, between sacred and profane, between Sunday and everyday life in her relationship with God. Instead, this relationship is a holistically total, comprehensive and all-unifying, and therefore healing and completing, loving relationship with a person, with whom she is in constant touch and dialogue. Teresa practices and teaches a “Christology from the bottom up” that does not get entangled in abstract concepts and philosophical-theological reflections, running the risk of overlooking what is essential, but focuses people’s attention on Jesus of Nazareth. Teresa’s contemplation of the biblical Jesus works. Jesus’ human face shows us God’s face; his actions make God’s actions visible. Her contemplation involves the whole Jesus, who shows his most human face as a suffering and dying man, because God’s loving devotion to humans finds its deepest and most convincing expression in this face. This contemplation is not a standoffish intellectual process, but one that is holistic and thus involves thought as well as experience, the heart as well as the brains, reason as well as will. Teresa lives from this inner, friendly dialogue, which gives her strength to withstand the rigors of her time as well as strength to carry out her reform work.

It is clear that the relationship with God is so fundamental to and decisive for Teresa’s life, that praying for this relationship, that is, the care for it, is the basic chord of her life, a basic theme that is repeated in thousands of variations and keeps her busy all the time. She therefore stands in the old Carmelite tradition, that is, she is “walking in the presence of God” or, in the words of the Prophet Elijah: “As the LORD God of Israel lives, before whom I stand” (1 Kings 17,1), “standing before God”. This means that prayer is not an occasional pastime. Instead, praying should be, or should become, a life-defining, fundamental attitude of the human being. A central point of the Carmelite Rule is the exhortation in Chapter 8 that “each one of you is to stay in his own cell or nearby, pondering the Lord’s law day and night (meditantes) and keeping watch at his prayers, unless attending to some other duty.” Contemplating the Lord’s life and having him always nearby – Teresa describes it in the following words:

“Our Lord is He by whom all good things come to us; He will teach you. Consider His life; that is the best example. What more can we want than so good a Friend at our side, who will not forsake us when we are in trouble and distress, as they do who belong to this world! Blessed is he who truly loves Him, and who always has Him near him!”

Life 22,7

“There is no need for us to receive special consolations from God in order to arrive at conformity with His will; He has done enough in giving us His Son to teach the way. This does not mean that we must so submit to the will of God as not to sorrow at such troubles as the death of a father or brother, or that we must bear crosses and sickness with joy. ... Our Lord asks but two things of us: love, for Him and for our neighbour: these are what we must strive to obtain. If we practise both these virtues perfectly we shall be doing His will and so shall be united to Him.”

Interior Castle V,3

Teresa describes the transformatio in prayer using the following image:

“I shall have to make use of some comparison, although I should like to excuse myself from this since I am a woman and write simply what they ordered me to write. But these spiritual matters for anyone who like myself has not gone through studies are so difficult to explain. I shall have to find some mode of explaining myself, and it may be less often that I hit upon a good comparison. Seeing so much stupidity will provide some recreation for your Reverence.

It seems now to me that I read or heard of this comparison — for since I have a bad memory, I don’t know where or for what reason it was used, but it will be all right for my purposes. Beginners must realize that in order to give delight to the Lord they are starting to cultivate a garden on very barren soil, full of abominable weeds. His Majesty pulls up the weeds and plants good seed. Now let us keep in mind that all of this is already done by the time a soul is determined to practice prayer and has begun to make use of it. And with the help of God we must strive like good gardeners to get these plants to grow and take pains to water them so that they don’t wither but come to bud and flower and give forth a most pleasant fragrance to provide refreshment for this Lord of ours. Then He will often come to take delight in this garden and find His joy among these virtues. But let us see now how it must be watered so that we may understand what we have to do, the labour this will cost us, whether the labour is greater than the gain, and for how long it must last. It seems to me the garden can be watered in four ways. You may draw water from a well (which is for us a lot of work). Or you may get it by means of a water wheel and aqueducts in such a way that it is obtained by turning the crank of the water wheel. (I have drawn it this way sometimes —the method involves less work than the other, and you get more water.) Or it may flow from a river or a stream. (The garden is watered much better by this means because the ground is more fully soaked, and there is no need to water so frequently — and much less work for the gardener.) Or the water may be provided by a great deal of rain. (For the Lord waters the garden without any work on our part — and this way is incomparably better than all the others mentioned.) Now, then, these four ways of drawing water in order to maintain this garden — because without water it will die — are what are important to me and have seemed applicable in explaining the four degrees of prayer in which the Lord in His goodness has sometimes placed my soul. May it please His goodness that I manage to speak about them in a way beneficial for one of the persons who ordered me to write this, because within four months the Lord has brought him further than I got in seventeen years. This person has prepared himself better, and so without any labour of his own the flower garden is watered with all these four waters, although the last is still not given except in drops. But he is advancing in such a way that soon he will be immersed in it, with the help of the Lord.”

Life 11,5-8

The best watering is watering by rainfall. Now what does this mean for prayer? Prayer still needs practice, because a garden requires care, even when it rains, and also requires weeding, as weeds will shoot up like before. Then what has changed? According to Teresa, it is the degree of effort. Practice will be practice, but the attitude with which it is done has changed, just like the form, or rather the meaning of the form. The objective is no longer to achieve something, but rather to be something, more specifically, to be a partner of God or, as Teresa says, a friend of God. It is no longer action that holds a prominent place, but ascetic practice; it is no longer words that are offered, but a stay, even though the prayer will retain its external form. The garden remains unaltered; what changes is the method of watering, the inner attitude.

According to Teresa, transformatio takes place on the basis of the offer of friendship with God to which the human replies. It is God who brings about the transformatio in a human, but He will not work without the help of this human or without his permission given in a loving reply. The care of the garden of the soul, in which God takes pleasure and where he finds joy, is and continues to be exacting to the human, yet what initially may have been experienced as a duty has changed into living in and from the friendship with God. This may not reduce the effort, but does fundamentally change the motivation.

I would like to illustrate this by a simple example from the time when I was a chaplain in our parish in Vienna. Again and again, I noticed an unusual change in male altar servers. At times, it was rather difficult to maintain decorum when they reached the age of puberty. They would come to Mass with uncombed hair, wearing their oldest jeans and dilapidated sneakers, and it was only with difficulty that we could bring them to comb their hair at the very least. Then suddenly a change would set in. The same boys would come to Mass well-dressed and combed, smelling like a perfumery. What had happened? They had fallen in love and their adored ones were in the church or were also altar servers. What initially had seemed something that could only be achieved by pressure and threats became a natural thing through love; the effort that had been avoided became a light one that was readily made. It is a simple example, but I think that it describes well what also happens in faith: the effort of faith, the ascesis, the trouble of faith changes into a burden that is carried willingly and with pleasure in the friendship with God and out of love for God.

John of the Cross

Some lines by John of the Cross describing the transformatio point in a similar direction:

“A ray of sunlight shining upon a smudgy window is unable to illumine that window completely and transform it into its own light. It could do this if the window were cleaned and polished. The less the film and stain are wiped away, the less the window will be illumined; and the cleaner the window is, the brighter will be its illumination. The extent of illumination is not dependent upon the ray of sunlight but upon the window. If the window is totally clean and pure, the sunlight will so transform and illumine it that to all appearances the window will be identical with the ray of sunlight and shine just as the sun’s ray. Although obviously the nature of the window is distinct from that of the sun’s ray (even if the two seem identical), we can assert that the window is the ray or light of the sun by participation.

The soul upon which the divine light of God’s being is ever shining, or better, in which it is always dwelling by nature, is like this window, as we have affirmed.

A man makes room for God by wiping away all the smudges and smears of creatures, by uniting his will perfectly to God’s; for to love is to labour to divest and deprive oneself for God of all that is not God. When this is done the soul will be illumined by and transformed in God. And God will so communicate His supernatural being to it that it will appear to be God Himself and will possess all that God Himself has.”

Ascent to Mount Carmel II, 5,6f. 

John explains that love of God certainly has emotional qualities, which he considers important especially for beginners, but that mature love consists in labouring to detach and strip oneself for God’s sake of all that is not God, to achieve nothing less than total conformity to God, to become transparent to God.

Many people tend to have a rather romantic-emotional understanding of love, which is reinforced by the almost countless pop songs about love and passion. However, the New Testament, or rather the Greek language, distinguishes three types of love: eros, including eroticism, that is, intimate love; philia, or friendship; and agape, or love of one’s neighbour.

As the love for God concerns the whole human, these facets of love are also found in the love of God. However, John of the Cross sees a clear development in the sense of an ascending path to a love that shows itself in a mature relationship and develops from childish attachment and being in love to mature love, working on oneself for God’s sake.

Therefore, a religious human should ‘lay aside his swaddling bands’, and this is the reason why John of the Cross regards a constant longing for new religious experiences with disfavour. He writes:

“Any person questioning God or desiring some vision or revelation would be guilty not only of foolish behaviour but also of offending Him, by not fixing his eyes entirely upon Christ and by living with the desire for some other novelty.

God could respond as follows: If I have already told you all things in My Word, My Son, and if I have no other word, what answer or revela­tion can I now make that would surpass this? Fasten your eyes on Him alone, because in Him I have spoken and revealed all, and in Him you shall discover even more than you ask for and desire. You are making an appeal for locutions and revelations that are incomplete, but if you turn your eyes to Him you will find them complete. For He is My entire locution and response, vision and revelation, which I have already spoken, answered, manifested, and revealed to you, by giving Him to you as a brother, companion, master, ransom, and reward.” 

Ascent of Mount Carmel II,22,5 

The longing for religious experiences is a kind of dependence that should be overcome for two reasons. Firstly, the critical question arises as to what a human with such a longing is looking for – a religious experience or God. Especially nowadays, religion is more and more described functionally, that is, it is considered as meaningful only when it has a useful function for humans, that is, it is considered with nothing but the objective of satisfying human needs in mind. In the Church, too, there is widespread confusion: are we seeking God’s consolation or seeking God?

The second consequence of a dependence on experiences is, very simply, loss of freedom. I cannot be free in my relationship with God, when I constantly make this relationship dependent on expected experiences. God cannot be free anymore either, when He becomes the subject of my manipulations.

“Sometimes many beginners also possess great spiritual avarice. They will hardly ever seem content with the spirit God gives them. They become unhappy and peevish owing to a lack of the consolation they desire to have in spiritual things.” 

Dark Night I,3,1

John of the Cross considers such an interest in ‘something tasty’ as childish:

“They are like children who are prompted to act not by reason but by pleasure. All their time is spent looking for satisfaction and spiritual consolation; … God very rightly and discreetly and lovingly denies this satisfaction to these beginners, for if He did not, they would fall into innumerable evils because of their spiritual gluttony and craving for sweetness. Wherefore it is important for these beginners to enter the dark night and be purged of this childishness.”

Dark Night, I,6,6

On the whole, John of the Cross is more concerned with this critical moment during the transformation. He is interested in transition phenomena, such as at the transition from the phase of beginners to that of the advanced. The necessary changes involved are always also somewhat crisis-like, which he captures with the concept of the dark night.

“It should be known, then, that God nurtures and caresses the soul, after it has been resolutely converted to His service, like a loving mother who warms her child with the heat of her bosom, nurses it with good milk and tender food, and carries and caresses it in her arms. But as the child grows older, the mother withholds her caresses and hides her tender love; she rubs bitter aloes on her sweet breast and sets the child down from her arms, letting it walk on its own feet so that it may put aside the habits of childhood and grow accustomed to greater and more important things. The grace of God acts just as a loving mother by re-engendering in the soul new enthusiasm and fervour in the service of God. With no effort on the soul’s part, this grace causes it to taste sweet and delectable milk and to experience intense satisfaction in the performance of spiritual exercises, because God is handing the breast of His tender love to the soul, just as if it were a delicate child.” (1 Peter 2:2-3)

Dark Night I,1,2 

The dark night was seen as a necessary experience on the spiritual path of a person. May be it could also mean, that a community, an order will have the experience of a dark night to be purified from “childishness” and so mature.

In our tradition, it is considered a fundamental task to mature in one’s faith, in spiritual life, to free oneself from such childishness – or better, to be freed from it.

“Isaias explains this clearly: ‘Whom shall God teach His knowledge? And to whom shall He explain His message? To them that are weaned, he says, from the milk, and to them who are drawn away from the breasts’ (Isaiah 28:9). This passage indicates that the preparation for this divine influx is not the former milk of spiritual sweetness, nor aid from the breast of the discursive meditations of the sensory faculties which the soul enjoyed, but the privation of the one and a withdrawal from the other.

In order to hear God, a person should stand firm and be detached in his sense life and affections, as the prophet himself declares: I will stand upon my watch (with detached appetite) and will fix my foot (I will not meditate with the sensory faculties) in order to contemplate (understand) what God says to me (Hebrews 2: 1).

We conclude that self-knowledge flows first from this dry night, and that from this knowledge as from its source proceeds the other knowledge of God. Hence St. Augustine said to God: Let me know myself Lord, and I will know You.”

Dark Night, I,12,5

The development of independence and individuality, practiced in solitude with and for God, is important particularly in the tradition of our Order. Along with the eremitical tradition it is this conviction which underlies Chapter 6 of the Carmelite I that reads: “Next, each one of you is to have a separate cell...” It is the monk’s own cell as a sphere of retreat, of solitude and the dialogue with God to which the Carmelite Rule attaches decisive importance. As Chapter 10 of the Rule stresses, every Carmelite is supposed to be found in his cell at any time, unless he is busy completing a task in accordance with the Rule. The most important site of spiritual life in Carmel is the cell, it becomes the place of self-knowledge and the knowledge of God and thus the realm of spiritual development or transformation.

A human is called to nothing less than to achieve total conformity to God, and at the end of this process he will receive everything that John of the Cross expresses so powerfully in his “Prayer of a Soul Taken with Love”. I would like to conclude with this text.

“You will not take from me, my God, what you once gave me in your only son, Jesus Christ, in whom you gave me all I desire. Hence I rejoice that if I wait for you, you will not delay. With what procrastinations do you wait, since from this very moment you can love God in your heart? Mine are the heavens and mine is the earth. Mine are the nations, the just are mine, and mine are the sinners. The angels are mine, and the Mother of God, and all things are mine; and God himself is mine and for me, because Christ is mine and all for me. What do you ask, then, and seek, my soul? Yours is all of this, and all is for you. Do not engage yourself in something less, nor pay heed to the crumbs which fall from your Father’s table. Go forth and exult in your Glory! Hide yourself in it and rejoice, and you will obtain the supplications of your heart.”

Sayings of Light and Love, 25[7] 

[1]     Teresa of Avila, Works quoted from: Teresa of Avila, Collected Works, translated by K. Kavanaugh & O. Rodriguez. Volume II. Washington D.C.: 1980.

[2]     Cf.: Bäumer R./ Plattig M. (Eds.), Noche Oscura y Depresiòn. Crisis espirituales y psicològicas: naturaleza y diferencias. Bilbao: 2011. Plattig M., Die `dunkle Nacht´ als Gotteserfahrung, in: Studies in Spirituality 4 (1994). 165-205.

[3]     The abbreviations and extracts from the Bible are taken from: The Revised English Bible, With the Apocrypha. Oxford/Cambridge: 1989.

[4]     A comprehensive discussion is found in: Guillet J., Bardy G., et al., ‘Discernement des esprits’, in: Dictionaire de Spiritualité, Volume III. 1222-1291.

[5]     John of the Cross, Works; quoted from: John of the Cross, The Collected Works, Revised Edition, translated by K. Kavanaugh and O. Rodriguez. Washington D.C.: 1991.

[6]     This is from the translation of the Valladolid manuscript, a shorter edition of the Way of Perfection.

[7]     John of the Cross, Sayings of Light and Love, No. 25, quoted from: John of the Cross, The Collected Works, Revised Edition, translated by K. Kavanaugh and O. Rodriguez. Washington D.C.: 1991. 669.

Michael Plattig, O.Carm., is a member of the German Province of the Order and is currently director of the Institutum Carmelitanum in Rome. This paper was delivered in the Carmelite European Youth meeting, which took place in Fatima in August 2014.

Angela Blardony Ureta, A.O.Carm

Today, we commemorate the feast day of one of the most remarkable women to have ever walked the earth, a Spanish contemplative nun who lived and died well over four centuries ago but whose words and deeds continue to impact us, especially those who have chosen to heed the silent call of Carmel.

Much had been said about Teresa of Avila – the great leader, mystic and reformer of the fifteenth century. Renowned scholars have written volumes of books and papers over the centuries about the depth of her theology and the complexity of her spiritual life. As one of the Church’s most popular and influential saints, she has inspired men and women to enter the religious life – particularly the monasteries and cloisters of Carmel – and to pursue a life dedicated to intimately knowing God. And from these followers of the great Teresa, there have been many martyrs, beatos and saints whom we now look up to as models of faith.

For us who are lay Carmelites, Teresa seems to be a more distant and looming figure than the “little flower” Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, who is certainly a favourite patroness of millions all over the world, or perhaps the more contemporary personages like twentieth century Carmelites Blessed Titus Brandsma and Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein).

What Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Blessed Titus Brandsma and Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross have in common is that they were all great admirers of Teresa of Avila, whose impassioned writings had greatly influenced their own vocation and spirituality.

From a lay perspective, especially for us who are neither scholars nor theologians, who is Teresa of Avila? How do we demystify her? How do we make her accessible and relevant to our daily lives?

As a media practitioner, I believe that the biggest challenge we face when introducing a subject is making our topic understood by all – because the nature of mass media is that you cannot choose your audience.

So how do we propose to speak about Teresa of Avila today? By talking less about the illustrious and lofty saint, and more about the witty and sensible woman who was, by and large, a product of her times. We have to see Teresa from the background of her historical, social, cultural and political milieu in order to understand her better and appreciate her spirituality, which ripened over time in the context of her personal human experiences.

Teresa in history: Born at a crossroads of time

Teresa Sánchez de Cepeda y Ahumada was born within the fabled walls of Avila on March 28, 1515. At that time, Europe ruled the world and the Holy Roman Empire ruled the crowned heads of the continent. The West was expanding into Asia and the Americas, hoisting the cross on one hand and the sword on the other.

The person that was Teresa had been shaped primarily by the historical, political, cultural and religious landscape in which she lived. She was born at a crossroads in history, when the world teetered between the Renaissance Period and the Age of Discovery and Exploration. Like the promise of springtime after the long winter that was the Dark Ages, the Renaissance signified ‘rebirth’, a widespread reform in intellectual and artistic pursuits, which saw the historical world move from darkness to light, from ignorance to enlightenment. Emboldened by their newfound skills and knowledge, the kingdoms of Europe ventured into distant territories in a zealous (and often brutal) mission to claim souls for Christ and gold for the crown.

During this period, Spain and Portugal led Europe in exploring the world’s seas and in opening oceanic trade routes. Large parts of the New World became Spanish and Portuguese colonies. Meanwhile, the Protestant Reformation gave a major blow to the authority of the Papacy and the Roman Catholic Church, as religious conflicts came to dominate politics. In the Middle East, the Ottoman Empire continued to expand, threatening the Christian colonizers. In the world of arts and sciences, the prodigious Italian painter Michaelangelo finished painting the Sistine Chapel, while Polish astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus proposed a ‘heliocentric’ (sun-centred) universe but was met with strong resistance, although later proven to be correct.

Teresa was a product of this scholarly period; she could read and write, rare for women of her time. Born only 23 years after Christopher Columbus’ sail to Hispaniola under the Spanish flag, her life was in many ways intertwined with the early history of the Hispanic New World. She had at least two brothers who served as conquistadores in Peru, conquered by Francisco Pizzaro in 1533. And growing up hearing stories about the quest for gold and adventure in the New World, she harboured an intense desire to learn, to explore, to conquer the infidels and to die for the faith.

In 1542, the Roman Inquisition began, the same year that both Juan de Yepes y Alvarez (later known as John of the Cross) and Leonardo da Vinci were born. Teresa was then 27. (Two years earlier, the Society of Jesus was founded by her fellow Spaniard, Ignatius of Loyola, and in England, the apostate Henry VIII was king.)

Also in 1542, Conquistador Ruy Lopez de Villalobos sailed from Mexico on the route of Ferdinand Magellan, and reached land on the other side of the globe four months later; he named the new colony ‘Las Islas Filipinas’ in honour of the prince, Don Felipe de Asturias.

By 1562, Teresa had begun reforming Carmel with John of the Cross – just two years before, Galileo Galilei and William Shakespeare were born. In 1582, the year she died at Alba de Tormes, Pope Gregory XIII introduced the new Christian Calendar. The day she passed away – October 4 – was the last Julian day in pontifical states, including Spain. This is why we now celebrate her Feast Day on October 15.

From these few examples we can see that throughout her entire life, Teresa lived in a world that was changing rapidly, even if societies and cultures struggled against transformation. Despite the world opening up around them, she lived in a land where social customs and religious traditions continued to be inflexible, and where she was often criticized for her non-conformist ways and revolutionary thinking. If not for her inborn charisma and irrepressible wit, this feisty nun would have ended up in the unforgiving flames of the Inquisition instead of founding convents. But such was not her fate.

In 1622, forty years after her death, she was canonized by Pope Gregory XV, and in 1970 named the first female Doctor of the Church by Pope Paul VI. She wrote books which include her autobiography, The Life of Teresa of Jesus, and her seminal work, El Castillo Interior (The Interior Castle) – now integral components of Spanish Renaissance literature as well as of Christian mysticism and Christian meditation practices, as she teaches us in her other important work Camino de Perfección (The Way of Perfection).

She is one of the patron saints of Spain and is the special protector of people with bodily ills and headaches, of lace makers, orphans, people in need of grace, women in Religious Orders, and individuals who are ridiculed for their piety.

A saint but not an angel

Many accounts on her life and works describe Teresa as an astute religious reformer and administrator, an inspired spiritual director, and an extraordinary mystical writer. Truly, she was a saint… but definitely, she was no angel.

The first forty years of Teresa’s life give no clue to the rich depth and productivity of the second half of her life. Her grandfather was a converted Jew who climbed his way into the aristocracy by marrying well; so did her own father. Motherless at age 14 and spoiled by a doting father, she was a vain, vivacious, exquisitely stylish young lady who was the centre of attention of any social function. She was known to be an excellent singer and dancer, and held everyone enthralled by her smart conversation. As she herself admitted in her later writings, she also liked to flirt with the young men who paid her court, so much so that she became so infatuated with a handsome cousin at age 16, prompting her father to pack her off to an Augustinian convent where she had limited access to male company.

Teresa was certainly unlike most privileged young ladies of her time. Raised at par with her male siblings, she was given basic education and was allowed to think for herself. Early on, she was able to make life choices that determined her future – a concession not available to the average sixteenth century woman. She knew she did not want to enter into an arranged marriage (as was the custom then) but neither did she wish to become a sorry spinster. So at age 21, against her father’s wishes, she professed vows as a Carmelite at the Convent of the Incarnation in Avila.

The convent was known for its leniency, permitting close personal relationships with those outside the convent and allowing worldly possessions within. Being overpopulated but penniless, the convent encouraged contact with the outside world, so as to bring in donations and alms for the nuns. At its parlour the lively aristocrat from Avila was, of course, one of those often called to amuse guests or to console capricious matrons.

Even inside the Incarnation, she used her noble title ‘Dona Teresa de Ahumada’. Enjoying the convent’s indulgences, she waned in her Christian devotion. Then she was forced by a serious, prolonged illness (worsened by partial paralysis from an attempted cure) to spend three years in relative quiet. She read books on the spiritual life. When she recovered and returned to the convent she resumed what to her later seemed only a half-hearted spirituality. Of these years, she wrote in her autobiography, “I voyaged on this tempestuous sea for almost twenty years with these fallings and risings”.[1]

When she was nearly 40, Teresa – who had found it hard to pray for the last two decades – had a profound religious experience. One day, while walking down a hallway in the convent, her glance fell on an image of Christ being scourged at the pillar. Almost instantly, her heart was pierced by the vision of his constant love throughout her desert period of infidelity.

As she said later, Jesus gently but powerfully revealed the cause of her spiritual collapse: her daily exposure to the trivial yet burdensome delights of sin. She wept all night and immediately broke with her past, undergoing a final conversion. After this, she began experiencing the profound mystical raptures that would cause her so much pain and ridicule, but at the same time, would bring her unspeakable joy and ecstasy as her existence became increasingly difficult.

In the last 20 years of her life, Teresa gave herself completely to personal spiritual growth and the renewal of the Carmelite monasteries. She spent her last years traveling the countryside establishing reformed (or ‘discalced’, meaning ‘unshod’, that is, ‘more simple’) Carmelite convents. She founded fourteen monasteries and died, quite literally, in the line of duty. On yet another mission of service at Alba de Tormes, her body exhausted and worn out by a lingering illness that led to profuse bleeding, Madre Teresa de Jesus died reciting verses from the Song of Songs.

Teresa in relation to other saints and great thinkers          

In 1562, Teresa met Fray Pedro de Alcántara, a Franciscan reformer whose saintliness inspired her to confide in him as her spiritual guide. Inspired by his attempt to restore his Order to its original barefoot poverty, Teresa took it upon herself to reform the Carmelites along similar lines.

In Salamanca she chose Padre Domingo de Bañez, an eminent Dominican theologian and an exponent and defender of Thomistic doctrine, as her director and confessor, showing her acute intellect and confidence even in the company of learned men.

In 1567, she met the young John of the Cross, whom she enlisted to extend her reform into the male side of the Carmelite Order. Inspired by the Spirit, she immediately talked to him about her reformation projects even if he was then just newly ordained and almost three decades her junior. She asked him to give up his entry into the Carthusians.

Meanwhile, saints from future generations like Francis de Sales and Alphonsus Liguori, both Doctors of the Church, not only greatly admired Teresa, but turned to her works for enlightenment and inspiration.

Philosopher Edith Stein went from being born a Jew to becoming an atheist and eventually, to conversion to the Roman Catholic Church after reading Saint Teresa’s autobiography. Stein became a Carmelite nun but was murdered by Nazis for her Jewish heritage in the gas chambers of Auschwitz during World War II. We now know her as Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross.

Teresa and the gift of ‘holy wit’

“From silly devotions and sour-faced saints, O Lord, deliver us!” This is probably one of the most popular quotes attributed to Teresa, one that tells us in one humorous yet evocative line her philosophy for life and faith.

Teresa mastered the art of living lightly and well; her devotion to Jesus Christ was matched only by her zest for life and her unbridled sense of humour. She prayed a lot, she laughed a lot.

Once when praying about her many trials and sufferings, she thought she heard God say, “But this is how I treat my friends.” With characteristic petulance, Teresa replied, “No wonder you have so few...”

A healthy sense of humour allows us to break but not shatter. Teresa had many outstanding qualities as a religious reformer and spiritual director, but for this lecture we narrow our focus in order to enjoy and profit from one of her most outstanding – though often overlooked – gifts: the ability to live by ‘holy wit’.

Teresa had her eyes focused on heaven while her feet remained firmly planted on the ground. She exhibited the twin qualities of humility and humour – a woman of many healthy contradictions that made her whole. She believed that finding the lighter side of things can also be holy if you are doing it to achieve God’s work.

Doing God’s work requires hard work and virtue: concern for others expressed in deeds and not mere talk; ego annihilation through a hardy obedience and detachment from self-satisfaction; trust and humility “in the presence of infinite Wisdom”. We must have a good sense of humour as well as a healthy dose of common sense.

     Indulgent yet austere, Teresa knew both pleasure and penance. She loved giving and receiving gifts, but also lived very simply in daily life. The story is told of her being invited to dinner at a patron’s house and of a guest making a snide remark about the nun enthusiastically devouring a partridge. She was said to have exclaimed: “When I fast, I fast; and when I eat partridge, I eat partridge!”

Yet Teresa was very vigilant against being selfish and self-indulgent, fussing about her health, her need for rest, her desire for tranquillity and order. She advised her young nuns to take care of their health but not to give in to every little malady, or else “the body grows fat and the soul weakens”.

She was idealistic, but also very practical, sensible and down to earth. “God deliver me from people so spiritual they want to turn everything into perfect contemplation,” she once said in relation to the extreme discipline and lack of mirth of a young friar.

Teresa, who dreamed big and always saw the positive side of any situation, also knew how to lighten the load by not taking everything seriously. As she quipped to a young nun who wanted to stifle any entertaining comments that occurred to her during recreation time: “It is bad enough… to be stupid by nature without trying to be stupid by grace.”

She had a romantic nature that was tempered by a clear and rational mind… and also a sharp tongue. To a prioress who complained of a nun’s love for books, her spiky reply was, “Better a bookworm than a fool!” On another occasion, when some of her contemplative nuns complained about doing manual work, she gave her now famous quotation: “Know that if it (the work) is in the kitchen, the Lord walks among the pots and pans.”

And in The Way of Perfection, she gives a clear example on why sensible action is just as important as pious contemplation:

“Saint Martha was holy, but we are not told that she was a contemplative. If she had been absorbed in devotion all the time, as Magdalene was, there would have been no one to prepare a meal for the Divine Guest.”

Teresa and prayer

Prayer, for Teresa, is a “solitary converse, with Him who we know loves us”. She was a renowned mystic, yet remained pragmatic.  She took supernatural occurrence with down-to-earth humour and slight scepticism of the ‘here and now’.

Teresa underlined the need to cultivate lofty thoughts, which are greatly helped by spiritual guidance from a suitable confessor, reading spiritual books, and the regular practice of prayer. She saw prayer not as a passive activity but as a rugged and robust exercise. And like any exercise, you have to do it religiously and without fail, whether you like it or not. For those times when we feel empty or unsure, she recommends a simple and highly personal method: “Look at Christ who is looking at you.”

Although she was the life of any conversation, Teresa was known to spend long hours in prayer and silence. On one occasion, she heard how some of her nuns were warned by hostile priests not to engage in deep contemplation as they may be “tricked by the enemy”. To this, the unfazed foundress retorted: “Prayer is the duty of the religious, God forbid that it should be dangerous. Cease troubling about these fears. This is not the time to believe everyone; believe only those whom you see modelling their lives on the life of Christ.”

For Teresa, prayer is the source of Christian life and the wellspring of all moral virtues. Prayer is not everything, but without prayer, nothing else is possible. Under this umbrella of prayer, God works in mysterious, often unpredictable, ways, and the soul works strongly.

Her understanding of disengagement from the world is not necessarily ascetic. On the contrary, her idea of genuine suffering comes from being fully present in the world and serving others. Spiritual progress is measured neither by self-imposed penance nor by the sweetest pleasures of mystical experiences but by growth in constant love for others and an increasing desire within for the will of God.[2]

As she wrote in Life:

“God and the soul understand each other… It’s like the experience of two persons here on earth who love each other deeply and understand each other well.”

Keeping our gaze on God

Like men and women of our generation, Teresa of Avila suffered from bouts of despair, especially as she was forced by age to weaken and slow down. “There come days in which one word alone distresses me, and I would want to leave the world because it seems everything is a bother to me,” she confesses in her memoirs.

Despite the eminent stature she occupies in the Church today, we have to remember that while she was founding her reformed convents, Teresa was actually a sickly old woman who travelled great lengths on rough roads and bad weather, often with little food and even less sleep.

In her writings Teresa openly talked about her failing health, her memory loss, her inability to do what she was instructed, even her shortcomings as an author. As she narrates and itemizes her own weakness, she calls herself “gloomy” and “ill-tempered” and admits that she often gets so angry she wants to “eat everyone up, without being able to help it”. As her disillusionment grows, she describes herself as a “helpless little bird with broken wings” or “a stupid little donkey grazing”.

Whether lay or religious, we are likely to reach a stage in our lives and in our work when we no longer feel as capable or as effective as we were years back. Or, we begin to question why we are doing these things in the first place – what have we accomplished that is of any relevance to the world?

Discouragement quickly follows, as we no longer understand ourselves and our real motivations. We become weak and cowardly on the moral level and see that “our natural bent is toward the worst rather than the best”. We find ourselves so physically limited and incapable of greatness that we are even greatly affected by “changes in the weather and the rotating of the bodily humours”.

All around us and in ourselves we see deception, duplicity, and lies. As Teresa notes, the world is a mockery, a joke, “as good as a play”. We are stunned by our experience of impermanence, instability and insecurity. We try to protect ourselves because we are afraid of the truth that haunts our sleeping and sometimes even our waking hours, the truth that the Buddhist and Hindu traditions call samsara: Everything changes, passes, and dies—and so will we. But as Teresa wrote in her famous bookmark prayer: “Todo se pasa” – all things are passing. “Solo Dios basta” – God alone suffices!

Teresa continues to inspire us even four centuries after her death. Her teaching has the power to see us through a lifetime and will endure hundreds of years after us, because the wisdom she shares is timeless and perennial.

Wherever you find yourself today, whether you are delighted or disillusioned, filled with wonder or wounded, shining or shattered in this modern world that is constantly changing and moving rapidly towards its own destruction, Teresa has a word of wisdom just for you: “All our troubles come from not keeping our eyes on Christ!”

References

Auclair, M.: Teresa of Avila. New York: Pantheon Books. 2004.

Hutchison, G.: Teresa of Avila: Living by Holy Wit. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press. 1999.

Smith, J.V.: The Way of Perfection: A Simplified Version. Manila: National Book Store Publishers. 1977.

ChristianHistory.net: http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/131christians/innertravelers/avila.html?start=2

[1]        http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/131christians/innertravelers/

         avila.html

[2]        http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/131christians/innertravelers/

         avila.html?start=2

On the 15th of October, the feast of St. Teresa, a solemn Eucharist was celebrated in Avila to mark the closing of the 5th Centenary of the birth of the Carmelite saint. The Archbishop of Valladolid and President of the Spanish Bishops’ Conference, Ricardo Blásquez, led the celebration, with many bishops and priests concelebrating. The concelebrants included the Prior General, Fr. Fernando Millán Romeral, O.Carm., and the Superior General of the Discalced Carmelites, Fr. Saverio Cannistrà, O.C.D., Following the Eucharist, the participants walked in procession with the statue of St.Teresa to the church on the site where she was born. 

Among the many participants there was a group of pilgrims from Australia, led by Dennis Andrews, O.Carm, the Provincial of Australia and Timor Leste, Fr. Greg Burke. O.C.D. and Paul Sireh, O.Carm.

While the Prior General was in Avila he took time out to visit the Monastery of Fontiveros (John of the Cross’ birthplace) and the interprovincial novitiate community in Salamanca, where he gave a talk on what is happening in the Order, to a very sizeable group of novices.  The previous evening the novices led a prayer vigil in the church of the Discalced Carmelites in Salamanca.

As well as that, in the monastery of the Discalced nuns in Alba de Tormes, on the 14th of October a solemn novena began to mark the closing of the Centenary. Fr. Alejandro López-Lapuente, O.Carm., from the community in Salamanca, led the celebration of the Eucharist and preached on the 14th and 16th of October. 

The Elective Chapter of the Carmelite Monastery of Paranavaí, Brazil, was held 10 October 2015. The following were elected:

• Prioress:  Sr. Derly de Paula Moreira, O.Carm.
• 1st Councilor:   Sr. Edna Maria Lopes de Sousa, O.Carm.
• 2nd Councilor:  Sr. Maria do Carmo da Conceição , O.Carm.
• Director of Novices:  Sr. Edna Maria Lopes de Sousa, O.Carm.
• Treasurer:  Sr. Edna Maria Lopes de Sousa, O.Carm.
• Sacristan:  Sr. Derly de Paula Moreira, O.Carm.

From July 23 to August 9 in Lima, Peru, a formation course was carried out for students and young formators in the Americas. The meeting covered issues in the field of academics, spirituality and psychology, as well as workshops on leadership, several pastoral experiences in poor areas of Lima and some cultural visits. Keynote speakers were John Welch, O. Carm., USA; and Carlos Mesters, O.Carm., Brazil, who spoke of the great Carmelite saints and the great figures of Mary, Elijah and Elisha. This first course was organized by Raul Maraví, O. Carm., General Councilor of the Americas, at the request of superiors, commissaries and delegates from the Americas. This meeting was attended by 23 friars from 10 different nations in the hemisphere, who enjoyed the internationality of the Order and a great fraternal atmosphere.

Also, from 26 to 31 October, the IV ALACAR Congress will be held in San Salvador, El Salvador (Central America), bringing together representatives of the O.Carm. and OCD families of Latin America: friars, nuns, religious and laity. The conference will focus in Saint Teresa of  Jesus on the occasion of the V centenary of her birth. Both Fr. Fernando Millán Romeral, O.Carm., Prior General of the Carmelite Order, and Fr. Saverio Cannistrà, OCD, Superior General of the Discalced Carmelites, will be speakers at this important gathering.

Pope’s Prayer Intentions for October 2015

Universal: Human trafficking - That human trafficking, the modern form of slavery, may be eradicated.

Evangelization: Mission in Asia - That with a missionary spirit the Christian communities of Asia may announce the Gospel to those who are still awaiting it.

Lectio Divina October - Octubre - Ottobre 2015

The Elective Chapter of the Carmelite Monastery of Carpineto Romano, Italy, was held 21 September 2015. The following were elected:

• Prioress:  Sr. M. Noemi Malagesi, O.Carm.
• 1st Councilor:   Sr. M. Paola Ricci, O.Carm.
• 2nd Councilor:  Sr. M. Valentina Rossin, O.Carm.
• 3rd Councilor:   Sr. M. Rosa Fois, O.Carm.
• 4th Couniclor:   Sr. M. Carla Zinno, O.Carm.
• Director of Novices:  Sr. M. Valentina Rossin, O.Carm.
• Treasurer:  Sr. Anna Luisa Voltazza, O.Carm.
• Sacristan:  Sr. M. Mihaela Catana, O.Carm.

The Provincials, Commissaries and Delegates General of the European Geographical Area met together in Rome from the 16th to 18th September 2015. Having reflected on the current situation of the Order in each of the provinces, they discussed in detail the question of collaboration in the area of initial formation. A common European novitiate having been established in Salamanca, Spain, some years ago, they have now agreed to prepare the way for the establishment of a European International formation community for initial formation in Rome. Apart from their work in general assembly and in regional groups, the provincials were addressed by the Prior General, Fr. Fernando Millán Romeral, Fr. John Keating, Councillor General for Europe and Fr. Míċeál O’Neill, Prior of St. Albert’s International Centre in Rome, who also acted as chairman for the meeting. They also issued the following message to all Carmelite communities in Europe:

The Carmelite Provincials of Europe, meeting in Rome, from the 16th to the 19th of September, and fully aware of what is happening  to the thousands of refugees who seek to find a welcome in our countries, make an appeal to all our communities, to live in the spirit of our constitutions (No.114). “Social reality challenges us.  Attentive to the cry of the poor, and faithful to the Gospel, we must take our stand with them, making an option for the “little ones”. (...) to bring to our brothers and sisters a word of hope and salvation from their midst, more by our lives than by our words ... ; (...) allegiance to Jesus also means allegiance to the poor and to those in whom the face of Christ is mirrored preferentially.” Mindful that in the beginning we too were pilgrims, and urged by our contemplative and prophetic charism, we invite each community, to the extent that each one can, to be open to the kind of solidarity that this humanitarian situation demands and that the Church asks of us too.

Rome, 18th of September, 2015

With the celebration of the 500th anniversary of the birth of Saint Teresa of Jesus we come to the summit of the commemoration of this great Carmelite saint. Various news of CITOC-online has reported the initiatives celebrated in many Provinces of the Order. In addition, during the General Chapter of the Discalced Carmelites, our Prior General presided at the Eucharist in the “Holy place”, the birthplace of Saint Teresa. He was accompanied by Fr. Xavier Cannistrà, Superior General of the Teresian Carmelites who was just re-elected as Superior General. In this issue of our magazine, we dedicate a large part to this Saint of Carmel: a biography of her life, an article on her characteristics, and finally a portrayal of her as a woman of prayer.

Another great figure of more recent times was beatified on May 23, 2015, in El Salvador: Bishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero. His beatification, so long-awaited, gives us the opportunity to present two articles on his love and pious devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel and a presentation of Carmel in El Salvador.

It was a great honor for the whole Order that Fr. Bruno Secondin, O.Carm, preached the retreat to Pope Francis and members of the Roman Curia. We are excited to share an article in which he shares with us this unique experience.

The history of Carmel has always responded to the challenges resulting from the changes of the historical moment.  An example of this is the report on the merger of the two Institutes of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and the Carmelite Sisters of Grace. This issue also features another article on Carmelite nuns, presenting a look at the reality of our nuns in Asia.

In addition to these articles, and other information from around the world, we present a selection of top news, some of which was already published in CITOC-online, as we catch a glimpse of the current activities of the Order.

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