Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

Manifested in the Paschal Mystery

In the Annunciation we have the revelation of God’s promise of an outpouring of Trinitarian love and Mary’s response. The implementation of this revelation and promise was the Paschal Mystery of the eternal Son of God. The term “Paschal Mystery” became common after Vatican II to speak about the redemption, the Eucharist and about our life in Christ. It is the mystery enacted at the Christian Passover. The word “Passover” comes from the two interconnected incidents in the Old Testament: the blood of the Paschal Lamb on the doorposts of the Israelites saved them from the destroying angel_; the people could then “pass over” from the slavery of Egypt to the freedom of the Promised Land (Exodus, chapter 12). Jesus is our Passover: his blood saves us from sin_; in him we pass from the slavery of sin to freedom and life. Jesus, our Passover Lamb, saves us through the sacred mysteries of his death, resurrection and ascension whereby he “passed over” to the Father in order to send the Pentecostal Spirit on the Church. We ponder the Paschal Mystery with Mary.

In the gospel of John we have two key incidents related on Calvary. The first is the word of Jesus to his Mother and the beloved Disciple:

Meanwhile, standing near the Cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” and from that hour the disciple took her to his own home. After this, Jesus knew that all was now finished (John 19:25.28a).

The second passage is after the death of Jesus:

When they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out (John 19:33.34).

Neither of these passages are to be found in the earlier synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark or Luke. In their present form these first witnesses probably date from the 60s or 70s. John’s gospel is a good deal later, and belongs to the end of the century. The community from which it arose had long pondered the Paschal Mystery of Jesus and concluded that the commitment of Mary to the beloved Disciple, and of the beloved Disciple to Mary was not merely an act of filial piety, by which Jesus saw to the future care of his mother. Seen in this way, it would have been a private act and not central to the Calvary story_; as such it was not recorded by the synoptic gospels. But the community of John’s Gospel saw that a deeper truth was involved. Mary is more than the physical Mother of Jesus_; she is the New Eve, and in a much more significant way than was Eve “Mother of all who live” (see Genesis 3:20). The address of Jesus, “Woman” looks to the universal significance of Mary. Moreover, in case we missed the point, the evangelist tells us, “After this, Jesus knew that all was now finished.” Mary and the beloved Disciple are both said to stand at the foot of the Cross. They are both present when the Church is born from the side of Jesus. The evangelist is pointedly recalling the origin of Eve: she was formed from the side of Adam as he slept (see Genesis 2:21.22). So too from the side of Jesus, the New Adam asleep on the Cross, the Church is formed_; it comes through blood and water to signify the heart of the Church, the Eucharist and baptism. It was Mary who gave Jesus his body from which the Church came forth. She is in this profound sense Mother of the Church on Calvary.

When we look on the Church, we must never forget its origins on Calvary. On the Cross Jesus bore all the sins of humanity. Indeed he was so crushed for our sins (see Isaiah 53:4.6) that Paul could write: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2Corinthians 5:21). Calvary is the place where Gods anger collides with the awfulness of sin_; Jesus is broken in the impact. But at a still deeper level there is his unfailing love for his Father and for us, so that he triumphs through the Cross. If we are to see the Church aright, we shall never be surprised at its sin and failure_; only the Head and the Mother of the Church are sinless. The Church bears the scars of sin, and must constantly surrender to the healing of the Cross. Anyone who is surprised at sin and failure in the Church at any level has not even begin to see the real Church_; more seriously they have missed the essential connection between the Church and Calvary. The Church must continually act out the Paschal Mystery: it must constantly die to sin and rise to new life_; the Church bears sin in the hope of resurrection. With its Lord it moves from death to glory. It is therefore essential that we be taught by Mary the deepest reality of the Church, the truth which must be sought on Calvary.

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

A very easy question to ask, but a difficult one to answer is, what is the Church? Even more difficult is, what is the Church for? Try answering the first one, by completing the sentence, “The Church is...” What did you come up with? It is relatively effortless to come up with a name for the Church, such as the People of God/the Body of Christ. It is much more difficult to come up with a statement that locks into the heart of the Church.

That is bad enough, but today many people would say, why bother? The Church has in some ways a bad name: there are divisions and scandals_; people are drifting away because what the Church offers no longer seems important to them_; some people find the Church too authoritarian for the values of our society, whilst others feel that it has given up on its birthright_; others will find the Church deficient in upholding or promoting what they consider to be critical rights and values.

I would like to approach the Church today from the perspective of Mary. I speak of Mary as the icon of the Church. An icon is a sacred image that draws us into the mystery of God and his love. To speak of Mary as an icon is to come to reflect in calm and peace. An icon is not penetrated with the casual glance we give to a newspaper heading, or a seaside photo. To appreciate an icon takes time_; we must ponder before the icon so that it can speak to us. My contention is that to reflect before Mary in prayerful contemplation is to be drawn into what is most central about the Church. Mary is a figure of beauty and repose_; she is a symbol that is calm and serene_; she is a woman at once tender and strong. We cannot contemplate Mary aright if we come with a loveless ideology, with anger and recrimination against other members of the Church. Today we come to Mary so that she can teach us the most profound truths about the Church.

But what is the Church we come to learn about from Mary? Remember the sentence: “The Church is...” When we hear the word “Church,” do we think of our parish, about the pope, about the sacraments, about catechists, about teaching or handing on the faith? Unfortunately today not many people think of the Holy Trinity when they hear the word “Church.” Yet it is in the Trinity that the Church has its deepest roots. In fact if we want to think rightly about the Church, we should start with the Trinity. To grasp the heart of the Church we need to begin with Trinitarian love. I would put it to you that the most important things about the Church can be summed up in four short phrases: The Church is quite simply: “Trinitarian love poured out on the world_; manifested in the Paschal Mystery_; celebrated in the Eucharist_; shared with the world.” Four short phrases, but very dense ones. What I propose to do is to reflect on these four little phrases, but to do so looking on the figure of Mary. Above all she is the one who knows the love of the Trinity that has been poured out over the world_; she experienced in the depths of her being the Paschal Mystery of her Son_; she can teach us about the Eucharist_; she is the model of the Church sent forth in service and evangelization. It is Mary then that can help us to ponder and to tease out the meaning of the definition I have given of the Church: Trinitarian love poured out_; manifested in the Paschal Mystery_; celebrated in the Eucharist_; shared with the world. It will be obvious that this vision of the Church is far removed from what interests the media about the Church. It is also far above the things that preoccupy people about the Church like papal teaching, the level of consultation in the parish, the personality of the bishop, parish priest or Eucharistic minister. Though faith is of course one, and we cannot neglect any revealed truth without imperilling the whole, nevertheless we have become engulfed in secondary truths of the faith, rather than what is primary. There is surely something wrong when people get worked up by questions of authority and never marvel at the wonder of the Trinity_; there is something quite odd surely about the number of right-wing groups in this century which have invoked the patronage of the Virgin Mary. I think, for example, of the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, a group in Boston in the 1940s who believed that everyone who was not a Roman Catholic was destined for hell. Its leader was excommunicated by Pius XII. Again, we have allowed ourselves to a rather serious extent to have become bogged down, if not in trifles, at least in what is peripheral. Our vision of the Church is too often pragmatic, dreary and angry. We need to lift up our eyes to the beauty which is at the heart of the Church. And Mary, who is supremely the beautiful one, is a sure guide.

Trinitarian Love Poured Out

One of the loveliest passages of the New Testament, a text used by the Church in the Liturgy of the Hours in Monday Evening Prayer, is the opening of the letter to the Ephesians (1:3-14). The present pope used the same passage to open his major encyclical letter on Mary, Redemptoris Mater (1987). It is a majestic sweep from eternity to eternity, the whole divine plan of the Father, manifested in the Son and brought to fruition by the Spirit. It is called quite simply “the mystery” (Ephesians 1:9_; 3:9). This great plan is brought into our world by creation, but especially by re-creation in the Son through the Spirit. This plan begins to unfold in the apparently simple story of the annunciation as told by Luke (1:26-38); rather more than unfold, it is all there in kernel. We approach this text with Mary_; indeed it is a daily prayer in the Church which we pray in the Angelus which recalls the central truths of this event.

We ponder the Annunciation with Mary_; she leads us into Trinitarian love. There was an apparition in Rome in 1947 which is little-known outside Italy. It occurred at Tre Fontane, the place of the martyrdom of St. Paul, where three fountains were said to have sprung up at the three places where his head hopped at his martyrdom. Bruno Carnacchiola was a militant seventh-day Adventist. He was plotting to assassinate Pius XII and was preparing an article against the Mother of God. The Virgin appeared to him and on the first occasion said one word, “basta!” (enough!). She subsequently gave her name as “Sono colei chi habita nella Trinita” (I am the one who dwells in the Trinity). We can find a not dissimilar idea in Irish devotion about Mary. Irish culture in some ways is much more matriarchal than British society. When in Irish Mary is called Bean ti na Trion6ide (The Housewife of the Trinity), it is implied that she is a servant of the Trinity in caring for all on behalf of the Trinity_; she, as it were, sets the tone in heaven and earth. The Church, moreover, must continually and ever more deeply be patterned on Mary.

We look for a moment at the Annunciation story to see what it might tell us about the Church, about Trinitarian love poured out. To begin with we should notice the small scale of the event: the angel comes to Nazareth which was a village of a few hundred people. Quite simply God does not think in our way_; we would surely have the angel come to a major metropolis like Rome, Corinth or to one of the centres of civilization like Athens. Already we are learning something about God’s ways and about what the Church must be. It is not great in the eyes of the world, but small, weak, almost insignificant, but of immense importance from God’s perspective. The angel brings a word from the

Father: Gabriel greets Mary with two mysterious words, chaire kecharit6mane instead of the normal Hebrew salutation, “peace Mary.” The angel’s address gives as it were a new name for Mary, “Rejoice O Graced One” (Luke 1:28). These are God’s continual words also to the Church: despite it weakness and constant failures, the Church is the graced one, and is called upon to rejoice. That call is particularly apposite today I spoke recently with a theology professor at one of the leading Roman universities there who remarked about the sheer heaviness and gloom that one senses about the Vatican despite the fact that the Pope himself frequently speaks about hope and the renewal for the coming millennium. But rejoicing cannot be turned on at command. We only exult if we have a reason. If we are td rejoice, if we are to be light-hearted and at peace, we need to look to the deepest ground of the Church. Like Mary, the Church is graced and it is covered with God’s love. All is well, we can indeed celebrate.

But there are difficulties. Mary sensed problems too. Luke indeed is careful to tell us that Mary was deeply disturbed at greeting at the angel’s greeting (Luke 1:29). In fact Mary not knowing or being disturbed is a theme in the first two chapters of Luke’s gospel (see 1:29.34_; 2:19.33.48.49.50). Mary receives reassurance from the angel, “You have found favour with God.” If instead of looking at the problems of the Church, we too were to listen to the word of God, we also would be reassured by the hope and promise of the great mystery which is the divine plan.

The angel goes on to proclaim the future destiny of the child:

He will be great, and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end (Luke 1:32-33).

She is told therefore that the glorious, royal messianic prophecies are now to be fulfilled. Her Son will be Lord of all. We will see later how he will be king and how these triumphant prophecies will be fulfilled through the words on the Cross, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” (Luke 23:3.37-3 8). Again we see reasons for raising our eyes in hope and rejoicing. Instead of the pessimism and depression afflicting the Church, we are to contemplate its Lord, Jesus. We become pessimistic when we look at ourselves_; we can be optimistic and confident when we look at the Lord. So too with the Church. With Mary we are being invited to look to the lordship of Jesus as the ground of our hope. Jesus is Lord_; evil will not have the last word_; the gates of hell will not triumph over the Church, weak as it may appear to be at times.

But Mary is still confused, “How can this be?” (Luke 1:34). We can easily grasp her perplexity. She is engaged to Joseph and there is a wedding in the offing. She asks equivalently therefore, “What am I to do? Mary – Joseph? Break off the engagement?...” She is given the only answer that will ultimately satisfy:

The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you (Luke 1:35).

Mary is to be enveloped by the Holy Spirit: it is God who ensures that God’s plans are fulfilled. We are invited to look in the same direction. The tasks facing the Church are indeed immense, and when we look around us, we are struck by weakness. We will not solve problems by condemnation or harsh invective. It is the gentle Spirit, the One whom St. Catherine of Siena loved to call “Clemency” or Mercy, that will support us.

Even though Mary was all-holy and perfect in the virtues of faith and hope, God still looked on her weakness as a human and gave her a sign to sustain her faith and hope: her elderly cousin Elizabeth is now pregnant. It is not just any sign, but a miracle_; a wonder moreover to make Mary rejoice in the good fortune of her cousin. The Church is given great

promises and reassurances. But we are not left without signs and wonders to strengthen our weak faith, and to console us in difficulties. I wonder what is the great sign that God gives us today? It is not in great rallies, or impressive buildings, nor indeed primarily in remarkable Church leaders. The great sign, the only convincing sign is love. When we look at the Church with unjaundiced eye, we see so much love, the sheer goodness of people, their generosity in family and social life. We see too so much heroic love of God in ordinary people. As long as such love is being produced by the Holy Spirit, we need never be pessimistic about the Church. And in case there is any doubt, we are given the word of the angel to Mary, “Nothing is impossible with God.” This statement is found several times in the Bible when there is some situation of human impossibility (e.g. Genesis 18:14_; Jeremiah 32:27_; Job 42:2_; Matthew 19:26). Again we are being told to look towards God and not to be focused on the problems that surround us.

Alter this Trinitarian revelation of God’s promises and invitation, Mary pronounces herself doule, a slave or servant, “Here am I, the servant, or rather slave, of the Lord_; let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). Here is her complete act of faith in the word, the command, the promise of God. The Church is nothing if it is not a Church of faith. Faith here is not a narrow presentation of dogmas or truths, but a total commitment which of course involves belief, but also demands hope and commitment. If it is to be modelled on Mary, the Church must constantly say a complete “yes” to what God says, commends and promises. Once again, a Trinitarian vision of the Church lifts up our minds to God and the wonders of his plan. Already in the first phrase of our definition of the Church, “Trinitarian love poured out,” we have an answer to much of the pessimism and despondency which surrounds the Church today.

Eamon R. Carroll, O.Carm.

A great many people met Our Lord when he walked the earth. We know some of their names: the apostles, Martha and Mary and Lazarus. There are the unnamed groups, even crowds, who heard him preach, sometimes captivated by this itinerant rabbi who spoke like they had never heard before, sometimes turning away from him, like the rich young man and the disciples who could not stomach the word of life, or his boorish townsfolk who rejected him Even those closest to him, the disciples, the blustering Peter, James and John (‘the sons of thunder,’ so ready to call down fire in defence of their master) — no wonder the Saviour said to Philip at the Last Supper: “Have I been with you so long and yet you do not know me?” (John 14, 9)

There is however one conspicuous exception among the hearers of Jesus: Mary, the Mother of Messiah. The reproach the Risen Redeemer addressed to the two despondent disciples returning to Emmaus could not have been addressed to Mary: “. . .so slow to believe all that the prophets have said. Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer before entering into his glory?” (Luke 24, 25) The Blessed Virgin of the Gospels stands in joyful contrast to the lethargic response, the consistently slow grasp of even the chosen companions of Jesus. The earliest preaching about the Saviour took up his public life; this is evident in St. Mark, the oldest gospel, also in the succinct summaries of the good news in the Acts of the Apostles (for example, Peter’s sermon in the house of Cornelius the centurion, Acts 10, 36).

This essay takes up some of the scriptural insights on Mary as ‘evangelizer,’ from the synoptic gospels, Matthew and Mark and Luke, following the order of their composition: so, first, her place in the public life of her Son, and then her role in his infancy and childhood. (A consideration of our Lady in St. John’s Gospel will be left to another time.) There is just a single public appearance of Mary common to Matthew, Mark and Luke; it is known as ‘the coming of the mother and the brethren,’ also as ‘the true kinsfolk of Jesus,’ and is told by Mark (ch. 3), Matthew (ch. 12) and Luke (ch. 8), each evangelist with his own interpretation. We look at the Lukan version in the setting of chapter eight. At the start of the chapter Jesus tells the parable of the sower; we recall our Lord’s explanation: “as for the part in the rich soil, this is people with a noble and generous heart who have heard the word and take it to themselves and yield a harvest through their perseverance.” Next St. Luke relates the short parable of the lamp, not hidden under a bowl or bed, but put high on a lamp stand that people may see the light when they come in. Only then does the evangelist give his version of ‘the true family of Jesus.’ “His mother and his brothers came looking for him, but they could not get to him because of the crowd. He was told: ‘Your mother and brothers are standing outside and want to see you.’ But he said in answer, ‘My Mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and put it into practise.’”

St. Luke has reported this incident as the conclusion to the two parables, leading his reader to see in the mother of Jesus the good soil where the Word of life took solid root. For Mary is the woman of noble and generous heart who heard the word of God and put it into practise. This is typical Lukan language: ‘hear the word and keep it,’ as also at the Annunciation, “be it done unto me according to your word...”

The same St. Luke has left us also another allusion to the Mother of Jesus from her Son’s public life, in chapter eleven. A woman from the crowd, taken with the preaching of Jesus, calls out in biblical accents: ‘Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.’ (Proverbs 23, 24-25, reads: “May your father and mother rejoice and the one who bore you be filled with joy.”) One current edition of the Bible titles this passage: “the truly blessed.” Our Lord’s reply was: “More blessed still are those who hear the word of God and keep it.” We are still on the Lukan wavelength of hearing and keeping the word of God. The setting of chapter eleven of St. Luke helps us understand the short dialogue between Jesus and the anonymous woman. Her praise for Jesus with its oblique reference to his mother is in striking contrast to the negative attitude of the other bystanders. The evangelist has just told the story of the man whom Jesus has delivered from the devil of dumbness. The crowd wonders how it has been done: some say by Beelzebul, the prince of devils; others ask as a test for a sign from heaven. Our Lord explains the folly of supposing Satan would act against himself and he refuses the further sign for which they ask. The exuberant praise of the unnamed woman is counter-posed to the querulous witnesses of the exorcism. More than miracle or any other sign Jesus emphasizes faith in the word of God. Hearing and heeding the word of God is where the Mary of St. Luke excels. Another way of stating this, a favourite approach of Pope John Paul II, is the phrase of St. Paul, ‘obedience of faith,’ (Rom 16, 26), used for our Lady as well in the new Catechism of the Catholic Church.

In St. Luke

We turn now to the infancy chapters of St. Luke. Their composition and background reflect the deepening awareness of the early Christians on the meaning of the Mother of Jesus. The New Testament bears witness to Mary as the Virgin Mother of the Word made flesh, and equally as the humble woman who was the first disciple of her Son, obedient in faith. She was the perfect pilgrim following in the footsteps of Jesus. The Second Vatican Council spoke of Mary’s ‘pilgrimage of faith,’ and Popes Paul VI and John Paul II have expanded our understanding of Mary’s model discipleship. Were we to be asked what single scriptural statement best describes Our Lady, we could hardly do better than the line, “Mary treasured all these things in her heart,” which St. Luke emphasizes by repeating it two times. That one sentence summarizes her response to the great things the Almighty did for her; those few words can serve as the Gospel description of her role as evangelizer. This was well said by Pope Paul VI in 1965: “Since Mary is to be rightly regarded as the way by which we are led to Christ, the person who encounters Mary cannot help but encounter Christ likewise.”

The Mother of Jesus treasured in her heart all the shepherds said when they came to Bethlehem; she did the same when her twelve-year old Son was lost and found in Jerusalem. On both occasions Jesus is the central figure, his Mother points the way to him. What is St. Luke telling us by using the word which we translate variously as ‘treasuring, storing, pondering, reflecting’? The term he chose means to search out a hidden meaning, to ruminate on marvellous happenings. The shepherds, representing the Jewish world, had spoken to Mary of her Son as ‘a Saviour.. Christ the Lord.’ In her pilgrimage of faith Mary had to work out the consequences of those exalted titles, for along with the joyful message of the shepherds were the cold facts of her Son’s birth. She could wrap him lovingly in swaddling bonds, but an animal manger was hardly the proper cot for a frail new-born, much less the Christ, the promised one, the heir and descendant of David the King. She would ponder the mystery of Christ the Lord with an animal’s crib for his bed. Eventually she would understand the sign of the manger for both the bread of life and as symbol of his rejection by those her Son came to save.

Beyond Bethlehem we hear no more of the shepherds who came to greet the Christ-child. We hear no more either of the unnamed others who were astonished at the report of the shepherds. Only the mother of the baby will reappear in his adult life. With the Passover visit to Jerusalem when Jesus was twelve St. Luke concludes his account of the childhood of our Lord. We hear no more thereafter of Joseph, nor can we identify the anonymous relations and acquaintances in the party returning home after the festival. When Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the temple, ‘sitting among the teachers, listening to them, and asking them questions,” a difficult dialogue follows.. “My child, why have you done this to us? See how worried your father and I have been, looking for you. Jesus answered: “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” If the temple teachers were astonished at his intelligence and replies, how much more so must have been the deeply worried Mary and Joseph. Succinctly, as if to say, “how could they understand...?” St. Luke comments, “But they did not understand what he meant...” The focus then returns to Jesus, who went down with them to Nazareth and lived under their authority.., and increased in wisdom, in stature, and in favour with God and with men.” St. Luke interjects the single line, “his mother stored up all these things in her heart.” Woman of prayer, she mulled over the events associated with her Son, the divine mysteries in which she was involved as Mother of the Christ, the holy one of God. As Fr. Raymond F. Brown has written: “Luke knows that Mary must have sought to interpret these events surrounding the birth of Jesus, and ultimately have succeeded, for she became a model Christian believer.”

Resurrection influence on Gospel picture of Mary

By the time Luke wrote his gospel a number of decades had gone by, and the first followers of ‘the way’ had come to be known as ‘Christians.’ These early faithful had been ‘evangelized,’ which is another way of saying they had received the good tidings of great joy, which they passed on to others in the catechesis of baptism, and celebrated in their public liturgy, especially the Eucharist.. The Gospels are irradiated with the light of the Risen Lord. As Mary and the other saints are, so to speak, bathed in the glory of the triumphant Saviour in the icons of Eastern Christianity, so in her Gospel appearances the holy Virgin is suffused by the radiance of her Risen Son. At the birth of John the Baptist the question was put: “What will this child turn out to be?” (Luke 1, 66). Long before Luke wrote his gospel, the woman who pondered in her heart had come to know the answer not only about the unexpected son of aged Elizabeth and Zachary but about her own son Jesus.

From Mary’s first appearance at the Annunciation in book one of St. Luke, his gospel, to her final appearance m book two of St. Luke, the Acts of the Apostles, before Pentecost, with the disciples in the Upper Room, s e is always shown to us as pondering the ways of G d, or in the language of the Second Vatican Council (1963) as inseparably joined to the saving work of her Son. One of the first to profit from Mary’s prayerful pondering was her Son. In the Old Testament book of Esther (ch. 4, 17) we find words that Mary might have pronounced in the same accents, and in turn transmitted to her child. At the time of King Assuerus of Persia five centuries before Christ, when her people were in terrible danger, Esther prayed: “As a child I was wont to hear from the people of the land of my forefathers that you, O Lord, chose Israel from among all the peoples and our fathers from all their ancestors, as a lasting heritage and that you fulfilled all your promises to them..” The quiet years at Nazareth were filled with love and learning. Mary introduced her Son to the traditions of the Jewish people; she taught him his first prayers. In his document, Catechesis in Our Time, October 16, 1979, Pope John Paul II reflected: “As he sat on her lap and later as he listened to her throughout the hidden life at Nazareth, this Son, who was ‘the only Son from the Father,’ ‘full of grace and truth,” was formed by her in human knowledge of the Scriptures and of the history of God’s plan for his people, and in adoration of the Father. She in turn was the first of his disciples. She was the first in time, because even when she found her adolescent son in the temple she received from him lessons that she kept in her heart. She was the first disciple above all else because no one has been ‘taught by God’ to such depth.” Our Lady is the mother and model of catechists; she is a ‘living catechism,’ indeed in the phrase of the late Kilian Lynch, Carmelite prior general, a ‘living library.’ In the notes accompanying the new votive Mass of ‘Mary, Seat of Wisdom,’ there is this quotation from the twelfth century St. Bruno of Monte Cassino: “Mother most wise, alone worthy of such a Son! She kept all these words in her heart, preserving them for us and commending them to our remembrance, so that afterwards, through her teaching them, recounting them, proclaiming them, they might be recorded, preached throughout the world, and announced to all nations.”

In 1976 Pope Paul VI issued an apostolic exhortation on evangelisation, one of the most significant of his documents. He entrusted evangelisation “to the hands and heart of the Immaculate Virgin Mary.” A year later the synod of bishops took the themes of the Holy Spirit, our Lady and catechesis as their ‘message to the people of God.’ They concluded: “May the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, faithful hearer of the Lord’s word, bring our efforts to a happy conclusion, and may the saving faith of Christ be leaven, salt, light and true life for the whole world. It was she who, as a faithful disciple of her Son, ‘remembered all these things, meditating on them in her heart.’“ Pope John Paul II, in his almost countless apostolic voyages, constantly visits the Marian shines. Through his addresses he has given the Church a whole Marian theology of pilgrimage, proposing the Mother of the Saviour as the first ‘evangelizer.’ In his first visit to Brazil, July, 1980, at the shrine of Our Lady of Nazareth at Belem (Portuguese word for Bethlehem), he spoke of the value of shrines, even for those who have been remiss in their practise of the faith. He appealed to our Lady: “Mother, you are the ‘new Eve.’ The Church of your Son., beseeches you that through your intercession the newness of the Gospel, the seed of holiness and fruitfulness, may never be lacking...”

The Holy See regards the apostolate of pilgrimages and shrines as so important that it has recently set up a special section at the Vatican. To the first world congress on the pastoral care of shrines and pilgrimages the Holy Father developed the theme that shrines celebrate popular piety. Here are two extracts from his address of February 28, 1992: “In a shrine a person can discover that he or she is equally loved and equally awaited, starting with the person life has treated harshly, the poor, the people who are distant  from the Church. Everyone can rediscover his or her eminent dignity as a son or daughter of God, even if they had forgotten it.” “I entrust you and your ministry to the care of Mary, mediatrix of divine grace, comfort of the afflicted, star of the sea, help of Christians, refuge of sinners, Mother of those who go on pilgrimage from this earth to the eternal kingdom”

Most Rev. Kilian Healy, O.Carm.

From the dawn of reason the heart of St. Thérèse was raised to God. As she grew in years she was blessed with insight into his merciful love. Her desire was to always do his will. At the reception of her first holy communion she told our Lord that she is giving herself to him forever.

After her entrance to Carmel at the age of fifteen she set full sail on her pursuit of holiness. She came to believe that God had bent down, lifted her up and embraced her in his loving arms (Story of a Soul, translated by John Clarke, O.C.D. 199; hereafter abbreviated as S).

In February 1895, two and one half years before her death she composed one of her most beautiful poems “Living on Love” (Poetry of Saint Thérèse, trans. by Donald Kenny, O.C.D., PN 17; hereafter PN). It was the fruit of an inspiration on an evening spent in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament during the Forty Hours devotion. In this poem she sings of the merciful love of God and of her desire to be aflame with love for him. She longs to live on love alone and to die of love.

“Loving you, Jesus, is such fruitful loss!

All my perfumes are yours forever.

I want to sing on leaving this world,

I’m dying of love!” (Ibid., St. 19).

A few months later on June 11, 1895 together with her sister Céline she made her Act of Oblation to the Merciful Love of God. She offered herself as a Victim, a holocaust of love. “Consume your holocaust with the fire of your Divine Love” (S 181).

As her spiritual life developed she was ravished with love and cried out: “O Jesus my love..., my vocation at last I found it....My vocation is Love” (S 194).

As we contemplate the heart of Thérèse aflame with love of God we ask: What were some of the devotions that served Thérèse on her journey to love? Throughout her life she had many devotions and shared in many spiritual exercises. We think of her devotion to the Holy Face and her love of the Divine Office. In this article we would like to focus our attention on three devotions that played a special role in her surrender to love, and that can become a vital influence in our spiritual development: the Bible, the Eucharist, and the Blessed Virgin.

The Bible

Today reading and study of the Bible is a daily practice in convents. But in the nineteenth century this was not so. Thérèse came to Bible reading gradu­ally, not at home but in the convent. We are told she did not have a copy of the complete Bible; she used Céline’s notebook which contained several passages from the Old Testament. Céline also gave her a copy of the Gospel and the Letters of St. Paul bound together. This little book she always carried over her heart. It is preserved today among the relics in the convent of Lisieux. Finally, we should remember that the nuns recited the Divine Office every day and among other Scripture passages it contained the Psalms, which gave her daily food for thought and prayer.

It was, then, the Vulgate form of the text that Thérèse knew. Had she been a priest, she said, she would have learned Greek and Hebrew in order to read the Bible in its original languages.

One book that gave her great nourishment was the Song of Songs, and her understanding of it came from the Catholic tradition, proposed by Origin (d. 254) the most influential commentator in the Christian community. For the Christian the Song refers to the love of Christ and the Church, Christ and the individual soul.

Thérèse received many spiritual insights from the Song, quoting it frequently especially in her letters to Céline. To one of her novices, Marie of the Trinity, she confided:

“If I had the time I would like to comment on the Canticle of Canticles (the Song); in this book I have discovered such profound things about the union of the soul with the Beloved” (quoted by Guy Gaucher, Story of a Life, 191).

In her Story she tells us of the spiritual enrichment gained from reading the Word of God. “Ah! how many lights have I not drawn from the works of our holy Father, St. John of the Cross! At the ages of seventeen and eighteen I had no other spiritual nour­ishment; later on, however, all books left me in aridity and I’m still in that state. If I open a book composed by a spiritual author (even the most beautiful, the most touching book), I feel my heart contract immediately and I read without understanding, so to speak. Or if I do understand, my mind comes to a standstill without the capacity of meditating. In this helplessness, Holy Scripture and the Imitation come to my aid; in them I discover a solid and very pure nourishment. But it is especially the Gospels which sustain me during my hours of prayer, for in them I find what is necessary for my poor little soul. I am constantly discovering in them new lights, hidden and mysterious meanings” (S 179).

We recall that in Carmel the sisters had two hours of silent prayer, one in the morning and the other in the evening. The daily reading and meditating on the Gospels led Thérèse to come to an understanding of God’s desire to flood the world with his merciful love, and prompted her to respond to his love. “Oh how sweet the way of love! How I want to apply myself to do the will of God always with the greatest self-surrender” (S 181).

Listening to Thérèse we can ask ourselves: What place do the Holy Scriptures hold in our life? Does God speak to us? Do we listen? To understand love, we must begin to love.

The Eucharist

Thérèse’s growth in understanding the merciful love of God and responding with love was also advanced by her love of the Holy Eucharist From her childhood Thérèse enjoyed going to Mass. She loved Sundays and Holy days. She doesn’t offer any special insights into the mystery of the Holy Sacrifice but she does have much to teach us about holy communion. She underwent a long and thorough preparation [or her first holy communion which she received at the age of eleven.

Her description of her first encounter with her Eucharistic King is edifying: “Afi! how sweet was that first kiss of Jesus! It was a kiss of love; I felt that I was loved, and I said: ‘I love You, and I give myself to you forever!’ There were no demands made, no struggles, no sacrifices; for a long time now. Jesus and poor little Thérèse looked at and understood each other, That day, it was no longer simply a look, it was a fusion; they were no longer two, Thérèse had vanished as a drop of water is lost in he immensity of the ocean. Jesus alone remained. e was the Master, the King. Had not Thérèse asked Him to take away her liberty, for her liberty frightened her? She felt so feeble and fragile that she wanted to be united forever to the divine Strength” (S 77).

Would this beautiful experience be repeated each time Thérèse received holy communion? No. Seldom would there be consolation and joy. Her communions would he acts of faith. She would think of the love of Jesus who longed to give himself to us in the host. She would recall his humility in condescending to come to us; his humility in coming hidden in the host. Her reaction was to try to please him who was so humble and loving.

Often she would seek Jesus in the tabernacle to keep him company. Daily reception of the Eucharist was not permitted in Thérèse’s time; a custom that displeased her greatly. She promised that once in heaven she would seek a remedy. In the meantime she would encourage frequent communion. In a letter to her cousin Marie Guérin, who would enter Carmel in 1895 as Marie of the Eucharist, Thérèse encouraged her to banish the scruples that kept her from receiving the Eucharist. “Dear little sister, receive communion often, very often. That is the only remedy if you want to be healed and Jesus hasn’t placed this attraction in your soul for nothing” (General Correspondence, v.1, translated by John Clarke, O.C.D., 569).

Pope Pius X in 1905 granted the whole church permission to receive daily communion; he was greatly pleased that he had done this after reading this letter of Thérèse. He said: “we must hurry this cause!” (Thérèse’s beatification) (Ibid.)

One night during her final illness Thérèse wrote a poem in preparation for holy communion: “You Who Know My Extreme Littleness” (PS 8, p. 233). Sister Thérèse of the Eucharist sang this song before Thérèse received holy communion on July 16, 1897. This was her last poem, a song of love, a cry of the heart to die of love. “Come into my heart, O white Host that I love. Come into my heart I long for you” (Ibid.).

During the last few months of her life Thérèse was so emaciated, so weak that she could no longer hold food in her stomach. Consequently, her last holy communion was on August 19, 1897, six weeks before her death. There is no indication that the last kiss of Jesus was similar to the first. This time there was no joy. She was immersed in the dark night of faith. After communion shed4ing tears she said to Mother Agnes, “I’m perhaps losing my wits. Oh! if they only knew the weakness I’m experiencing. Last night I couldn’t take anymore; I begged the Blessed Virgin to hold my head in her hands so that I could take my sufferings” (Last Conversations, translated by John Clarke, O.C.D., 54; hereafter LC).

Yes, the infirmary was her Calvary, her sick bed the Cross. With Jesus she was a victim of love.

As we meditate on Thérèse’s love of the Eucharist (she often thought how wonderful it would be to be a priest and offer the Eucharist) we ask: What place does the Mass and holy communion bold in our life? Do we share in the daily celebration of the Eucharist? Do we realize that Jesus in the host is manifesting his love for us, that he is asking to be loved? How do we respond to Jesus on days there is no consolation?

The Blessed Virgin

Along with the Bible and the Holy Eucharist, devotion to the Blessed Virgin accompanied Thérèse on her journey of surrender to love.

In her childhood Thérèse learned to honour Mary. At the age of three she prayed to Mary in words taught to her by her mother. When she made her first confession at the age of six her confessor encouraged her to practice devotion to the Blessed Virgin, and Thérèse promised herself that she would redouble her tenderness to Mary. When she was ten years old she came down with a mysterious nervous sickness. While lying sick in bed, she tells us, the Blessed Virgin with a ravishing smile appeared to her, and she was instantly cured. The following year, at age eleven in the afternoon of the day of her first holy communion Thérèse was chosen in the name of her companions to make the act of consecration to Mary. She tells us: “I put all my heart into speaking to her, into consecrating myself to her as a child throwing itself into the arms of its mother, asking her to watch over her. It seems to me the Blessed Virgin must have looked upon her little flower and smiled at her, for wasn’t it she who cured her with a visible smile? Had she not placed in the heart of her little flower her Jesus, the Flower of the Fields and the Lily of the valley?” (S 78).

In 1887 Thérèse accompanied her father and Céline on a pilgrimage to Rome. Along the journey they visited shrines of our Lady, and she felt that she was rewarded with great graces at Our Lady of Victories in Paris and Loreto in Italy. However, in Rome she was disappointed with her audience with Pope Leo XIII. Although he treated her with kindness, he did not grant her request to enter Carmel at age fifteen, leaving the decision to the will of God. Downcast she returned home, but her spirits were soon revived when the bishop granted her desire, a favour she believed was a gift of the Blessed Virgin.

Once she entered Carmel she took comfort in wearing our Lady’s mantle, and the Brown Scapular, our Lady’s gift, which for her was a sign of predestination. She also carried our Lady’s rosary, was faithful to the daily recitation, but, as she confesses, it was not without great difficulty.

In December 1894 she received an order from her superior, Mother Agnes (Pauline), to write her childhood memories. Always obedient Thérèse tells us: “Before taking up my pen, I knelt before the statue of Mary (the one that had given so many proofs of the maternal preferences of heaven’s Queen to our family), and I begged her to guide my hand that it trace no line displeasing to her” (S 13). Throughout the story of her life Our Lady figures prominently. But this is true in her poems, letters, religious plays and last conver­sations in which Mary appears as loving Mother and model.

As we reflect on the central role of Mary in the life of Thérèse we ask: Is there any writing in which she expounds her teaching on the Blessed Virgin? Fortunately, there is. To Céline she once confided: “I have always dreamed of saying in song to the Blessed Virgin everything I think about her” (S 217).

On May 1897, a few months before her death, she fulfilled this desire with a masterful poem, the favourite of many devotees, “Why I Love You, Mary” (PN 54, p. 215). In twenty five stanzas with thoughts drawn from the story of Mary in the Gospels she sings of her love for the Mother of Jesus and our mother.

It is not our intention to offer a commentary of the poem (there are some beautiful ones) but rather to offer a few thoughts that shed light on her profound devotion to Mary. In her poem she is guided by the portrayal of Mary in the Gospels. She tells us that Mary is not only the Mother of Jesus, our Saviour; she is our spiritual mother, But Mary is also our model. She led an ordinary life, similar to ours, a life of faith, hope, charity, obedience, humility, patience. It was a life of intense suffering. She experienced the pain of poverty, the cold, the heat, even exile. She endured the dark night of faith especially when she stood beneath the Cross and offered Jesus to appease the Father’s justice.

In her meditations on the Gospels Thérèse found in Mary not only a loving mother, hut a mother who had led an ordinary life, like our own, no ecstasies or miracles. She found a mother she could admire and imitate, a mother who could lead her to Jesus. In her joy she cried out: “You teach me to sing divine praises, to glory in Jesus my Saviour” (St. 7). This poem, Thérèse affirms, contains all that she would preach about Mary were she a priest.

During her final days in the midst of her trial of faith and intense physical suffering, Thérèse frequently prayed to the Virgin Mary. At times she was heard repeating the closing words of her beautiful poem to Mary: “You who came to smile at me in the morning of my life, Come smile at me again.... Mother.... it’s evening now” (St. 25, p. 220).

As the shadows of evening fell on September 30, 1897, and after two days of agony Thérèse, while gazing at her crucifix, died. Her last words: “My God, I love you” (LC 206).

She had reached the goal of her life, eternal love. But on her journey, often fought with darkness and suffering she found guidance, comfort and great hope in the Bible, the Eucharist, the Blessed Virgin Mary. She points to us the way to love. From heaven she calls: “Come, follow my way.”

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

Mary and the Carmelite Mystics

In the extensive writing about the Carmelite mystics there is, I think one major lacuna. Not nearly enough attention has been given to the place of Mary in the mystical journey. On its coming to Europe in the mid-13^th century, the Carmelite Order developed over a period of about 300 years several images of the Virgin. Firstly, she was Patron. The hermits chose her on Mount Carmel as their Patron by the medieval symbolism of dedicating their first church to her. Henceforth they would serve her as a feudal Lady, and she would protect them as her vassals. The second image developed was Mother. The Lady of the Order was also its Mother. Thirdly, the idea of Sister developed. The Brothers of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, to use the ancient title of the Order, realized that their Patron and Mother was also Sister. Finally, the Carmelites focused on Mary as Virgin, but not so much in terms of chastity or physical integrity, but as the Virgin of the Most Pure Heart. Mary was the ideal fulfilment of the programmatic aim of The Institute of the First Monks, “to offer to God a heart holy and pure from all actual stain of sin.”

But behind all these four images of Mary – Patron, Mother, Sister and Virgin of the Most Pure Heart – there is a deeper reality: Mary is the gentle, loving presence for Carmelites. But she is more: she is the Teacher and Guide of the mystics. This is an area seldom averted to by authors on the Carmelite mystics, be they from the Order or not.

Marian Mysticism

A significant element of the Order’s tradition is that of Marian mysticism, a term which is not univocally used by all scholars. Its main exemplar is the Flemish Carmelite tertiary Mary Petyt (Petijt – Mary of St. Teresa, 1623-1677). After some years of searching out her vocation she met the Carmelite, Michael of St. Augustine, who became her director and summarized some of her experiences in a little volume on the Mariform Life (Latin text edited G. Wessels Rome, 1926_; others in R.M. Valabek, Mary: Mother of Carmel. Rome, 1987, vol. 1:269-289).

Two questions arise about Marian mysticism: the first is the role of Mary that is ordinarily to be found in the contemplative – mystical life of Carmel_; the second is the more difficult area of examining the reality and validity of a specifically Marian mystical experience.

In general we can answer that in the Carmelite Order contemplative life and mystical experience are very frequently seen to have Marian characteristics. Mary accompanies Carmelite contemplatives on their journey to divine union. Furthermore, very many Carmelite mystics have had experiences in which Mary had a part. These are too commonplace to need much elaboration_; one can take one example from St. Teresa of Avila. It was on the feast of the Assumption 1561:

I was reflecting on the many sins I had in past confessed in that house and many things about my wretched life. A rapture came upon me so great that it almost took me out of myself It seemed to me while in this state that I saw myself vested in a white robe of shining brightness, but at first I didn’t see who was clothing me in it. Afterward I saw our Lady on my right side and my father St. Joseph at the left, for they were putting that robe on me. I was given to understand that I was now cleansed of my sins...

The beauty I saw in our Lady was extraordinary, although I didn’t make out any particular details except for the form of her face in general and that her garment was of the most brilliant white, not dazzling but soft... (T)hen it seemed to me I saw them ascend to heaven with a great multitude of angels. I was left in deep loneliness, although so consoled and elevated ah4 recollected in prayer and moved to love that I remained some time without being able to stir or speak, but almost outside myself I was left with a great impulse to be dissolved for God and with similar affects. And everything happened in such a way that I could never doubt, no matter how much I tried, that the vision was from God (Life 33:14-15).

Here though Mary is central in the experience, it is a vision that is from God and leading to deeper union with God. Again, St. Teresa of Avila in a mystical vision on 8 September, 1575, renewed her vows in the hands of Our Lady. She notes: “This vision remained with me for some days, as though she were next to me at my left” (Spiritual Testimonies 43).

The healing of St. Thérèse of Lisieux through the smile of our Lady on Pentecost Sunday 1883 is another example of a Marian vision, but one which is seen as a divine mercy, the beginning of a process of healing which five years later would allow her enter Carmel (The Story of a Soul, ch. 3).

Such mystical experiences are extremely frequent in the history of spirituality, and need not be taken as distinctively Carmelite, even though also found in, and arising from, the life of Carmel.

The second kind of experience is more specifically Carmelite, and as yet not sufficiently studied by spiritual theologians. It is, however, occasionally detected apart from the Carmelite Order, for example in the Jesuit Pierre-Joseph de la Clorivière (d. 1820) and in the life-long collaborator of Cardinal Suenens, Veronica O’Brien (b. 1905). It is most elaborated by Michael of St. Augustine and Mary Petyt, and texts in modern languages are not widely accessible_; significant material remains unpublished. There are a few initial observations to be made. Mysticism is about a journey to God, divine union with the Trinity. Hence there will inevitably be a need of contextualization of the writings of both these authors, since sentences taken apart may seem to indicate a distorted focus on Mary in place of God. Further difficulties arise from the highly symbolic mystical language used by them.

The basis of the Mariform life is the spiritual motherhood of Mary and her mediation, both of which can be seen as deeply embodied within the Carmelite tradition. The Mariform life consists in “having one’s eyes open on God and his most blessed Mother, so that one promptly and joyfully does what one knows is pleasing to them, and avoids what one recognises as displeasing to them” (Michael of St. Augustine, De vita Mariam-formi et mariana, ch. 1 – ed. Wessels p. 363). Thus one lives a life which is at once divine and Marian_; the reign of Jesus and the reign of Mary coincide so that “Jesus and Mary unanimously reign in it (the soul)” (Ibid. 364-365).

Thus it is clear that the central intuitions of this mysticism are fully orthodox. The expressions which it takes are explicitations of this insight of the identity of the will of Mary

and Jesus. Where the teaching becomes specific and original is in the way that Mary is seen to accompany and instruct the person on the whole journey to profound divine union and mystical marriage. Still more distinctive is the notion of union with Mary as the way in which one comes into union with her Son and the Triune God. Thus Michael of St. Augustine uses several images.

Firstly, there is life in Mary:

As by the diligent exercise of faith and stable love one acquires the habit or practice of having the presence of God always and everywhere in mind, and there is such a sincere affection flowing with such facility towards God, it therefore appears impossible to forget God: in a similar way the one who loves Mary by constant exercise acquires the habit or practice of having her as loving Mother present in mind, so that all one’s thoughts and affections terminate both in her and in God, and the person can forget neither the loving Mother nor God (Ibid. ch. 2, pp. 366-367).

This, he says, is not something infantile or innocent, but a very mature, rational and valiant (yin/ion) movement. It is a work of the Spirit to lead the person to an awareness now of Mary, now of God, without any conflict or division of hear (Ibid. ch. 3, pp. 368-3 69).

Secondly, the person lives for Mary. Here the author is again careful to show that service of Mary in no way detracts from God.

Just as in Mary everything is for the divine pleasure, and in eternity she lives for God for his pleasure, love and glory, so too every life and death for Mary must serve and be directed for God, and hence we do not live or die for Mary as our ultimate end, or with any reflection that would ac/here to anything outside God for our own convenience; rather by life and death in Mary and for Mary we more perfectly live and die in God and for God in the cause of his pleasure and love, and the perfect reign of Mary in us also at the same time consists in the perfect reign of Jesus in our souls. Nothing of the reign of Mary contradicts the reign of Jesus, but is totally ordered to it (Ibid. ch. 5, p. 371 with ch. 4, p. 369).

The remaining chapters of the work are a bold exposition of a genuine Marian mysticism. On the unquestionably orthodox basis just indicated, Michael of St. Augustine, drawing largely on the experiences of his directee, Mary Petyt shows a way to union with God which is by ‘way of union with Mary. There is growth in this mystical journey, and initial experiences of God and Mary may need to be purified. The Marian mysticism of these two spiritual authors is described as “contemplative life of God in Mary, and of Mary in God.” (Ibid. ch. 7, p. 374) But they do not allow confusion between Mary and God_; the analogy used is that of the Incarnation in which the two natures are united but not fused (Ibid. ch. 7, p. 376). Union with Mary is a love union with God:

In this way we can understand the fruition of Mary in the soul, the melting (liquefactio) of the soul in Mary, the union of the soul with Mary and its transformation into Mary; this is because love tends to what resembles it and so inclines the soul, for the nature of love is to tend to union with the loved one (Ibid. ch. 11, p. 383).

The heights of mystical union with Mary are described in language which is indeed somewhat obscure, but has a haunting drawing power:

Consequently the memory, the intellect amid the will are then so quietly, simply, and intimately occupied in Mary and simultaneously in God, that the soul can scarcely detect how these operations are transformed. In a confused way it knows well and feels the memory to be occupied with some most simple remembrance of God and Mary, the intellect has a naked, clear and pure awareness of God present and of Mary present in God, the will has a very tranquil, intimate, sweet, tender and spiritual love of God and of Mary in God and a loving adherence to God and to Mary in God. I say “spiritual love” because love is then seen to shine and operate in the highest part of the soul with abstraction from the lower and sensitive powers, so that it is more proportioned to intimate melting, absorption in God and in Mary and union with God and at the same time with Mary. For when the powers of the soul are virtuously (nobiliter) and perfectly occupied in the memory, awareness and firm adhesion of the whole soul with God and Mary, so that by a loving melting or influx of love seem to make one with God and Mary, as if these three God, Mary and the soul are melted together. This seems to be the extremity and supreme realization that a soul can reach in this Mariform life, and it is the principal activity of this exercise and spirit of love towards Mary (Ibid. ch. 12, p. 384).

As we have already noted, the mystics have their experiences not only as special and personal gifts from God, but also in order that they might teach the Church. The Mariform mysticism of Mary Petyt is not something eccentric in the history of spirituality, but teaches the whole Church something important about the journey to God. What may not be explicit in other mystics is very clear in Michael of St. Augustine and in Mary Petyt, namely that divine union comes about through a person becoming more closely clothed with the virtues of Mary, and through her continuing presence and accompaniment. Theirs is the most dramatic and the most sublime expression of the truth continually expressed in all Carmelite Marian writings, namely the motherly presence of Mary accompanies the Carmelite always, and growth in holiness is found through opening oneself to this presence and motherly care.

Though from a different culture, the Flemish mysticism of these two Carmelites is another expression of the theological truth proposed by Hans Urs von Balthasar adopt the need for the Church to be truly Marian if it is to be authentically Christian. It also predates, and is a much more profound exposition of the truths expounded in the better-known book on the slavery of Mary, The Treatise on the True Devotion by St. Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort (d. 1716). For many people the “True Devotion” is a form of piety, an approach which they choose to Mary. Marian mysticism, on the other hand, is the result of the way God intervenes in a person’s life.

Conclusion

The Carmelite mystics are sufficiently homogeneous to be a distinct family in the Church_; yet they are diversified enough to find in them models and teachers that will be suitable to different people on the spiritual journey on which the Spirit leads them.

But we must remember that the Lord has a special plan for each one of us. Some people are indeed drawn to the Carmelite way. But it is only one, amongst many. There is an abundance of spiritualities in the Church. If we as Carmelites are right in thinking that the Carmelite mystics have something important to say today to all in the Church, especially perhaps to women, we are no less convinced that there are many other ways. We could not think otherwise, for our very first document, our 13^th century Rule, begins with the opening words of the Letter to the Hebrews: “Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways.

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

The Carmelite Mystics

In a discussion at the Carmelite general chapter in 1989, someone asked if the Church would have been much the poorer if the Carmelite Order never existed. My immediate instinct was to feel that of course the Carmelite Order, small as it is, is important for the Church_; but the question niggled, did we really make any big difference? I pondered the question for weeks and months, and it gradually became clear in my mind something of the nature of the Carmelite contribution to the Church.

The great Carmelite insight, one common to all our mystics, is the supreme value of the spiritual journey, the journey into our heart where we discover God. This journey is a pearl beyond price_; it is something worth losing all else to acquire. But it is not an easy journey: the ascent of Mount Carmel to use the expression of St. John of the Cross, later taken over in the liturgy, is a stern task that demands unrelenting dedication over a life-time. Yet the Carmelite mystics know like the Egyptian Jewish mystic, Philo of Alexandria in the first century, that just to embark on this journey is already a great joy.

This we see in a letter of Bl Elizabeth of the Trinity just before she died at the age of twenty-six to her slightly worldly friend, Françoise de Sourdon. Elizabeth was so weak she could only write in pencil. But her mind was crystal clear. From her own deep experience she told her nineteen year old friend:

I truly believe that God wants your life to be spent in a realm where the air breathed is divine. Oh! You see, I have a profound compassion for souls that live only for this world and its trivialities; I consider them as slaves, and wish I could tell them. Shake off the yoke that weighs you down; what are you doing with these bonds that chain you to yourself and to things less than yourself (Complete Works. Washington, 1984 ff. 1:126 / Oeuvres complètes. Paris, 1991: 136)

Four years earlier when she was twenty-two and Françoise would have been only fifteen she had written:

I understand that you need an ideal, something that will draw you out of yourself and raise you to greater heights. But you see, there is only One; it is He, the Only Truth! Ah, if you only knew hint a little as your Sabeth does! He fascinates, He sweeps you away, under His gaze the horizon becomes so beautiful, so vast, so luminous... My dear one, do you want to turn with me towards this sublime ideal? It is no fiction but a reality (Ibid. 122 / 414).

Similar sentiments could be echoed throughout the Carmelite tradition. An obvious example from the male Carmel would be the ecstatic poetry of St. John of the Cross.

But the Carmelite mystics do not only share this conviction of the pearl beyond price with other saints, which they come from a particular perspective, which we shall see if we look briefly at the history of the Order and its Marian tradition.

Carmelite Historical Background

The Carmelites always have a problem about their origins. Other institutes had great men and women as founders: the Franciscan family has St. Francis and St. Clare_; the Vincentians have St. Vincent De Paul (Depaul) and St. Louise de Marillac. The Carmelites were originally hermits living on Mount Carmel in the second part of the 12^th century. They got a Rule from St. Albert of Jerusalem about 1208. They came to Europe as a result of Saracen persecution. They had great trouble being accepted in Europe: they were of unknown Eastern origin_; they wanted to live as hermits and found they could not do so on fresh air_; they had a habit which was like the back of a wobbling zebra_; the diocesan clergy did not want more competition_; the other religious institutes did not welcome rivals either.

For the first hundred years or so, Carmelite writing was almost exclusively defensive: the Carmelites had to justify their right to exist and to minister as friars which they had become. By the middle of the 14^th century they were more or less accepted, and soon a major classic in spirituality was written. This work by a Catalan Carmelite, Philip Ribot, after 1370, called The Institution of the First Monks, though largely derivative, gives in essence the mystical call of the Carmelite Order. A passage in the second chapter of the first book is rightly famous:

In regard to that life we may distinguish two aims, the one of which we attain to, with the help of God’s grace, by our own efforts and by virtuous living. This is to offer God a heart holy and pure from all actual stain of sin. This aim we achieve when we become perfect and hidden in charity... The other aim of this life that can be bestowed upon us only by God’s bounty: namely to taste in our hearts and experience in our minds, not only after death but even during this mortal life, something of the power of the divine presence and the bliss of heavenly glory.

Here we find clearly expressed the ordinary ways of the spiritual life, namely what we can do by our own grace-assisted efforts, and the mystical (“supernatural” in St. Teresa of Avila) which is by God’s special gift. The significance of this passage lies partly in the fact that this special grace is one that we should desire and have as an aim of the spiritual journey.

In the middle of the next century Bl. John Soreth founded the Carmelite sisters and the Order henceforth would have a feminine branch. There had been various groups of women associated with the Order before Soreth’s foundation in 1452. The first significant woman mystic who wrote, or had her thoughts recorded, was St. Mary Magdalene of Pazzi (d. 1607).

Meanwhile in the century leading to the Reformation, the Carmelite Order, like other orders, was in some decline. There were various reforms, even before the Reformation. But the most significant one was initiated by St. Teresa of Avila in Spain. From being a bit

worldly, but by no means a great sinner, she received the grace of a major conversion in 1555. Seven years later she began the reform of houses of nuns, and later of priests in the Order in Spain. She was later helped by St. John of the Cross, twenty-seven years her junior. After their death, the reformed houses broke away from the parent Carmelite Order to form the Discalced Carmelites, now in some places, even by themselves, called Teresians.

There was a major reform in the parent Order at the beginning of the next century, centred in Touraine in France. Its leading light was a blind lay-brother, the Venerable John of St. Samson, one of the most outstanding mystics in the history of spirituality. His works are only now being published in French. English translations do not yet exist. In the period of 1600-1850 there was a huge amount of mystical writing in both parts of the Carmelite family_; this body of material is only in recent decades being studied, and very little is published in modern editions.

With the nineteenth century we have one of the best-known of the Carmelite saints, Thérèse of Lisieux who died in 1897 at the age of twenty-four. Less known is Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity who died at the age of twenty six in Dijon in 1906. Both were enclosed Discalced nuns. Another remarkable mystic is the recently beatified Edith Stein, a Jewish philosopher and convert to Catholicism, who was martyred by the Nazis in 1942. Also a martyr to German National Socialism was Bl. Titus Brandsma, an authority himself on Carmelite and Low Countries mysticism.

Mystics for the Whole Church

Thus we see that the Carmelite mystics are both men and women, but all were members of the Carmelite Order, either as friars or nuns. The question arises whether these can be said to belong to the whole Church or have a more parochial interest for one religious family. At this stage one can say that the mystics received personal graces to raise them to high holiness. This gracing, however, was ecclesial_; it was not only for themselves, but also for the Church. Through their mystical experiences they became teachers in the Church, and some have become authenticated teachers with the title “Doctor of the Church.”

Characteristics of Carmelite Mysticism

In the brief outline of Carmelite history, we saw the origins of the Carmelite Order to have been on Mount Carmel, a hermitical life. The change to Europe was traumatic. One Prior General, Nicolas the Frenchman, wrote The Fiery Arrow about 1270, a bitter diatribe against those who betrayed the ideals of the Order by leaving the contemplative life to become involved in pastoral ministry. In succeeding centuries there was always a nostalgia for the hermit life of Mount Carmel and a conviction that the Order is essentially contemplative as well as pastoral. At times this nostalgia would appear almost as a schizophrenia between the ideal of Mount Carmel, which was to be no more, and the actual reality of the ministry of friars.

This nostalgia for the hermit life on Mount Carmel gave rise to a characteristic symbol of the desert. We know that the desert is a symbol of purification. It was in the desert that the Israel was purified and made into a people_; the prophet Hosea speaks of the desert as a time of special conversion to, and allurement by, the Lord (2:14). The desert, even when not explicit, is never far from Carmelite writers. They sense its solitude, its being a privileged place of divine encounter, its offer of conversion, purification and transforming love.

But the place of the desert is within. I must go into my heart to find the desert, the place where I meet God. Elizabeth of the Trinity in her final years cites the text of Hos 2:14-16 about the desert where God speaks to the heart (Oeuvres complètes 100, 174, 463).

This desert of the heart has all the connotations of the Exodus experience in which the Israelites were purified of their idolatry. It is in the desert too the Carmelite mystics learned to let go of the many idols that block the way to God. There are many names for this desert: it is the nights of John of the Cross, it is the surrender of Thérèse and Elizabeth of the Trinity, it is the journey inwards of Teresa of Avila, it is the cell of the heart corresponding to his prison cell for Bl. Titus Brandsma. Above all the desert is where we learn to leave all and travel light to meet the One who satisfies all our desires.

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

It has long been my conviction that the main crisis facing the Church is not a crisis of faith, but a crisis of religious experience. It is not that people do not believe, but they do not see the point of faith. And they drift away. Despite the enormous commitment of the Catholic Church to the renewal of liturgy, there has not been a renewed Church. One may say that the liturgical renewal is patchy and at times very defective. But those of us old enough to remember the pre-Vatican II Mass can only be struck by the contrast today of participation by the congregation, even in the most unrenewed or backward church. In the Tridentine Mass there was no communal participation, except through presence and such movements as kneeling, sitting, standing, and making the sign of the Cross. But where has our renewal brought us? People are wandering off: some to other Churches, a fact that we Catholics do not often admit_; some to cults_; some to New Age manifestations_; some to a cold secularity without any religious dimension.

Yet the sad thing about this modern crisis is that the very thing people are seeking elsewhere is already present in the age-old tradition of the Church. When people seek their deepest self, a power within, a transformation of awareness etc. in New Age offerings, we can answer that what they are looking for, and far more, is already at hand in the Church, but seldom preached and generally ignored, like a trunk containing family treasures reposing in an attic. Amongst the finest riches in the Catholic household are the lives and writings of the Carmelite mystics.

The Carmelite mystics form a group of major spiritual writers in the Church. But as a whole they are more spoken about than known_; they are often misunderstood. If you mention St. John of the Cross, people may immediately think of him as hard and inhuman_; St. Teresa of Avila’s visions and experiences will be thought of as far beyond the ordinary Christian_; St. Thérèse of Lisieux, however_; is felt to be nice, a bit sugary perhaps, but was she really a mystic? Yet these three are only the best known of a whole diverse category of spiritual authors, all of them different, yet still belonging to an identifiable family, the Carmelite Order.

This article attempts to place them briefly in their background and see some common features as well as some of the differences between them.

Mysticism

But first a word about the difficult term “mystic/mysticism.” In a very odd book Matthew Fox gives twenty-one definitions of mysticism, and more or less agrees with them all (The Coming of the Cosmic Christ. The Healing of Mother Earth and the Birth of a Global Renaissance. San Francisco, 47-67); I would not. A surer guide is the Jesuit, Harvey Egan, who devotes the first chapter of his fine book Christian Mysticism: The Future of a Tradition (New York, 1984) to a discussion of the meaning of the word “mysticism.” He and all main-line scholars are agreed that mysticism is not primarily about peak experiences, or extraordinary graces such as visions, ecstasy or levitation. It is the Christianity lived to the full, pursued to its ultimate and all-satisfying fulfilment. Mysticism is a way of living, and not a set of transient or isolated experiences. Mysticism is the result of an unconditional response to unconditional love. The mystic wants and finds God alone, and in God finds and values everything else. What most characterizes mysticism therefore is love.

Christian love is not a simply acquired possession, even though its foundation in the habit of charity is given at baptism. Love is a journey, a search, a pilgrimage. It is also a struggle. Love is not a feeling, for feelings can be present or absent in genuine love. Love is primarily a decision, a commitment to another, in the case of the mystic to God, sought as the All Holy, the Totally Other, the Supreme Good. But total love does not come easy. We all know the three enemies of the world, the flesh and the devil. Powerful forces both inside ourselves and from outside tend to turn us away from the path of total love. So the mystical road is a road of purification. If we are to be united with the All Holy God, then everything that is of sin and selfishness must be surrendered and healed.

When we speak of mysticism, then, we are concerned with the consequences of people falling totally in love with God. Mysticism is a living contact with the living God. But it is a contact ultimately beyond our unaided efforts. The most we can hope to achieve by our own efforts assisted by grace is a well-ordered life in which sin is overcome and virtue seriously cultivated. This corresponds to St. Teresa’s Third Mansions and the active nights of St. John of the Cross. Beyond that we cannot go, unless God intervenes and carries us up to a state in which we can experience his deep presence in our lives and above all in our hearts. This experience of God’s working within us, of drawing us into himself as Father Creator, Redeeming Son and Abiding and Strengthening Spirit is in turn a still more profound healing of our selfishness which allows God to give still greater blessings.

Pope Pius XII

To the Most Reverend Fathers

Prior General of the Order of the Brothers

of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel (O.Carm.)

&

Prepositus General of the Order of the Discalced Brothers

of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel (O.C.D.)

Christ is the way; Mary reflects the way; her Scapular is our keepsake on the way.

There is no one who is not aware how greatly a love for the Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, contributes to the enlivening of the Catholic faith and to the raising of the moral standard. These effects are especially secured by means of those devotions which, more than others, are seen to enlighten the mind with celestial doctrine and to excite souls to the practise of the Christian life. In the first rank of the most favoured of those devotions, that of the Holy Carmelite Scapular must be placed — a devotion which, adapted to the minds of all by its very simplicity, has become so universally widespread among the faithful and has produced so many and such salutary fruits.

Therefore it has pleased Us greatly to learn of the decision of our Carmelite Brethren both Calced and Discalced; namely, to take all pains to pay homage to the Blessed Virgin Mary in as solemn a manner as possible on the occasion of the Seventh Centenary of the Institution of the Scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Prompted therefore by Our constant love for the tender Mother of God and mindful also of Our own enrolment from boyhood in the Confraternity of this same Scapular, most willingly do We commend so pious an undertaking and We are certain that upon it will fall an abundance of divine blessings. For not with a light or passing matter are We here concerned, but with the obtaining of eternal life itself which is the substance of that Promise of the Most Blessed Virgin that has been handed down to us. We are concerned, namely, with that which is of supreme importance to all and with the manner of achieving it safely. For the Holy Scapular, which may be called the Habit or Garment of Mary, is a Sign and a Pledge of the protection of the Mother of God. But not for this reason, however, may they who wear the Scapular think that they can gain eternal salvation while remaining slothful and negligent of spirit, for the Apostle warns us: “In fear and trembling shall you work out your salvation.” —Phil. 2:12.

Therefore all Carmelites, whether they live in the cloisters of the First and Second Orders or are members of the Third Order Regular or Secular or of the Confraternities, belong to the same Family of Our Most Blessed Mother and are attached to it by a special bond of love. May they all see in this Keepsake of the Virgin herself a Mirror of humility and purity; may they read in the very simplicity of the Garment a concise lesson in modesty and simplicity; above all, may they behold in this same Garment, which they wear day and night, the eloquently expressive symbol of their prayers for the divine assistance; finally, may it be to them a Sign of their Consecration to the Most Sacred heart of the Immaculate Virgin, a consecration which in recent times We have so strongly recommended.

And certainly this gentle Mother will not delay to open as soon as possible, through her intercession with God, the gates of Heaven for her children who are expiating their faults in Purgatory - a trust based on that Promise known as the Sabbatine Privilege.

Now, therefore, as a pledge of the divine protection and help, and as an assurance of Our own special predilection We most lovingly impart to you, Beloved Sons, and to the whole Carmelite Order, the Apostolic Benediction.

Given In Rome At The See Of Peter

On The Eleventh Day Of February,

On The Feast Of The Apparition Of The Immaculate Virgin Mary,

In The Year 1950,

And The Eleventh Of Our Pontificate.

Pius PP XII

During the Provincial Chapter of the Province of Pernambuco held on 13-17 January 2014 were elected:

• Prior Provincial:  Fr. Altamiro Ternorio da Paz, O.Carm.
• First Councilor:   Fr. Luiz Nunes Pereira, O.Carm.
• Second Councilor: Fr. Alberto Bezerra da Costa, O.Carm.
• Third Councilor:  Fr. Aloísio Saturnino da Silva Primo, O.Carm.
• Fourth Councilor:  Fr. José Cláudio de Alencar Batista, O.Carm.

The Elective Chapter of the Carmelite Monastery of Tanay, Philippines, was held 9 January 2014. The following were elected:

• Prioress:  Sr. M. Rebecca Valdez, O.Carm.
• 1st Councilor:   Sr. Maria de los Angeles de Jesus Perez, O.Carm.
• 2nd Councilor:  Sr. M. Esperanza Cecilio, O.Carm.
• Director of Novices:  Sr. M. Esperanza Cecilio, O.Carm.
• Treasurer:  Sr. Mary Grace Bruno, O.Carm.
• Sacristan:  Sr. M. Alma Jesusa Santos, O.Carm.