Teresa Avila (16)
Ernest E. Larkin, O.Carm.
“We need no wings to go in search of God, but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.” These words were written by St. Teresa of Avila in her book The Way of Perfection.
St. Teresa of Avila learned as a small child that one had to die in order to see God. Little Teresa wanted to see God. Practical and courageous by temperament she devised a scheme. She and her brother, Rodrigo, would go to the land of the Moors. There they would surely be martyred and Heaven would receive them. Very early one morning the two children stole away from their home and crossed the bridge leading out of Avila. But the plan soon ran into trouble. An uncle who happened to be entering Avila at the time, met the children, heard their fantastic plan and unceremoniously returned them to their parental dwelling.
Later on in life St. Teresa realized that one does not have to die to see God. “We need no wings to go in search of Him,” she wrote, “but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.”
These words of the saint contain three essential steps for fruitful mental prayer.
First, we must be searching for God; second, we must be willing to be alone with Him, and third, we need but look upon Our Lord Who is present within us.
At first sight, this advice might seem too general or too obvious to be of practical help in mental prayer, but the three steps go to the heart of the matter. St. Teresa is the antidote for those who can’t see the forest for the trees. With a woman’s intuition she cuts through the accidental and points out the essential conditions for mental prayer. Let us look at each of these principles in some detail.
First, we must be searching for God.
If God is just a name, if His love for us is an abstract truth which we believe but do not realize, we will hardly search for Him.
Mental prayer is too difficult for that. It will lack appeal. If, on the other hand, we are convinced that God is in Teresa’s words “a better prize than any earthly love,” if we realize that we actually have within us something incomparably more precious than anything we see outside, then we will desire to enter within ourselves and to seek God. When we are convinced that He cares for us and waits for us, we will have the security and the courage to love Him in return.
Mental prayer makes no sense to the loveless soul. Other prayers, for example, petitions or thanksgiving, even liturgical worship, can be said with little or no conscious love of God. Not so mental prayer. It is by definition in Teresa’s view nothing but friendly conversation with Him Who we know loves us. “The important thing in mental prayer,” she says, “is not to think much but to love much.” Mental prayer becomes passable when we realize the gift of God dwelling within our soul. Referring to her earlier years in religious life, St. Teresa wrote these regretful words, “I think that if I had understood then as I do now that this great King really dwells within a little palace of my soul, I should not have left Him alone so often and never allowed his dwelling place to get so dirty.” Mental prayer, you see, is nothing but our side of friendship with God—our “yes” to God’s call and invitation
This leads us to the second principle of St. Teresa’s advice. The willingness to spend time alone with God. For this saint, prayer is the way of perfection, the door to God’s great favors. “Once this door is closed,” she writes, “I do not see how He will bestow His favors
for though He may wish to take His delight in the soul and give the soul delight, there is no way for Him to do so since He must have it alone and pure and desirous of receiving His favors.” Teresa herself closed this door for one year of her life, during the long 18-year period of mediocrity which she describes as a struggle to reconcile these two contradictory things: the life of the spirit and the pleasures of the senses.
Teresa wanted God, but at the same time she was unwilling to give up certain little selfish habits, petty attachments that were displeasing to God. Giving up mental prayer was not the answer to this problem. It was almost a fatal mistake because this way is the only way to victory over ourselves and surrender to God. At the time she excused herself from prayer on the plea of ill health, but in her heart she knew the dishonesty of this reason. “One needs no bodily strength for mental prayer,” she wrote later, “but only love and the formation of a habit.”
Love, as we have seen, is the root. But let us be sure we know what this love is. Too many confuse being loved with love itself. Love is outgoing, unselfish, active. It means giving rather than self-seeking. It strives to please rather than be pleased. Listen again to St. Teresa: “Perhaps we do not know what love is. It would not surprise me, for love consists not in the extent of our own happiness, but in the firmness of our determination to please God in everything.” This kind of love moves us to spend time alone with God, not for what we get out of it, but for what we can put into it. We don’t go to mental prayer to feel good or enjoy a spiritual experience. These are secondary aspects at best. We go to protest our desire to accept God’s love, to allow Him to take over in our lives.
It is accidental whether we are delighted with consolation or tortured by dryness and desolation, whether holy thoughts and affections pour out of our hearts, or our minds are dull, sterile and unproductive.
Some of the best prayers are said when we don’t feel like praying, when we are tired and sluggish or burdened with self-pity and depression. When we are heavy, so opaque, so closed in on ourselves that only a heroic effort of our will keeps us kneeling at our prayer. It is this will to be alone with God and to talk with Him that distinguishes true prayer from delusion, because this will is the love of God.
Such love forms the habit of prayer. It makes us faithful to mental prayer day in and day out, in times of fervor as in times of coldness. It makes us choose God rather than ourselves outside prayer as well as in prayer, a choice that will be evident in our acts of fraternal charity, generosity, humility. This attachment to God and detachment from ourselves will measure the perfection of our prayer. As our life goes, so goes our prayer, and as our prayers, our life. We pray as well as we live and we live as well as we pray.
If we would improve then, where do we begin? Where shall we start? St. Teresa gives us the answer. It is the same answer that Our Lord gave in the Gospels: Perseverance, faithfulness, the formation of a habit. She would heartily endorse, I am sure, this thought of Dom Chapman: “If you want to pray well, then pray much. If you don’t pray much at least pray regularly and you will pray well.”
But one practical question remains. How? How shall I go about making mental prayer?
St. Teresa’s third principle is the answer. Simply look upon God present within your soul. The saint repeats this suggestion in many different ways. We are to fix our mind on the person of God, cultivate the sense of His Presence, have the realization of Whom we are addressing. This is her secret. You will find no new method of mental prayer in St. Teresa, no structuring of preludes and points. She is silent on these matters not because she is against them, but because she
reduces mental prayer to its simplest terms.
To certain nuns of her convent who objected that mental prayer was beyond their ability she wrote: “I am not asking you now to think of Him or to form numerous conceptions of Him, or to make long and subtle meditations with your understanding. I am asking only to look at Him.” It is as simple as that.
“Beginners,” she says, “do well to form an appealing image of Christ in His Sacred Humanity. They should picture Him within themselves in some mystery of His life, for example, the Christ of the agony or the Risen Savior in His glorified Body. Once they are conscious of Our Lord’s presence within their souls they need only look upon Him and conversation will follow. This friendly conversation will not be much thinking but much loving, not a torrent of words, much less a strained prepared speech, but rather a relaxed conversation with moments of silence as there must be between friends.”
This is the way St. Teresa prayed from the beginning. She simply gave her full attention to the Divine Guest within her soul and let her thoughts and sentiments take their course. At times she would console Our Lord for His suffering. At other times rejoice with Him in His Resurrection Sometimes her prayer would be affective, that is, made up of numerous acts of faith and hope and charity, humility and the other virtues. Other times it was contemplative. It was a simple lingering look of love that had the very feminine quality of blissful admiration.
But perhaps this way of prayer does not appeal to you. Such prayer, you may say, is all well and good for contemplatives, but I need a more active prayer, a more busy prayer. I must think through a mystery of Faith, make certain definite acts of my mind, work up concrete resolutions. I must follow a methodical meditation or I am doomed at prayer. To this I say well and good. Each one of us must pray the way God gives him to pray, but does not this simplified method of
St. Teresa meet the real needs of many? Are there not many among you who cannot meditate but who can pray?
In any case, St. Teresa’s teaching reminds all of us of what is truly essential in prayer, especially that it is a person-to-person contact between intimate loving friends. St. Teresa did in fact envy those who could meditate. She saw the value of extended reflections and dynamic dramatization on events of Our Lord’s life. She well knew that thoughts and images rouse up the will and incite lively sentiments of the virtues, but at the same time she knew that the essence of mental prayer lies on a deeper level than our own reflections and thinking, that real prayer exists when one strives to make contact with God whatever success is had, and that the measure of prayer’s perfection is the love that inspires it. And so St. Teresa prayed the only way she could, suffering the increased difficulties that were bound to come from the fact that the imagination, the memory and the intellect were not given a methodical plan of action.
She would use supports wherever she could find them. In books, for example, or in the beauties of nature, even in holy cards. Books were her standby. She never began mental prayer without some reading to collect her thoughts and put herself in the atmosphere of prayer. She returned to the book as often as needed in the course of the prayer. Daily spiritual reading assumed special importance because of the relative lack of reflection at prayer itself. Vocal prayers, like the Our Father, said slowly and with an effort to “taste” each phrase were also employed to express her love of God. But the starting point and the way to her whole system lay simply in looking at the Lord present in her soul.
In the beginning His Presence would be recognized by an act of faith expressed and made graphic in the dress of a picture of Our Lord. With growth in the spiritual life, in faithand hope and charity, and hence in prayer itself, the sense of His Presence would become more profound, more realized, more experiential. At all times this loving union with the Indwelling God was the immediate goal of her prayer. It should be your goal at prayer, and you will more quickly~ and more surely attain this union with God if you take to heart the discovery of St. Teresa of Avila:
“We need no wings to go in search of Him, but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.”
500 years after birth, witness of St. Teresa of Avila remains strong, says Pope
Written byBy Ann Schneible
On the 500th anniversary of St. Teresa of Avila's birth, Pope Francis praised the Spanish mystic and reformer for her witness of self-gift to God, as well as her particular relevance during this Year of Consecrated Life.
“How much goodness does the testimony of her consecration – born directly from the encounter with Christ, her experience of prayer as continuous dialogue with God, and her community life, rooted in the motherhood of the Church – do for us!” the Pope said, according to Vatican Radio's translation.
In a March 28 letter addressed to Fr Xavier Cannistrà, superior general of the Order of Discalced Carmelites, the pontiff wrote that it is providential that the anniversary of the saint's birth should coincide with the Year of Consecrated Life, which began late last year.
St. Teresa of Avila, the Holy Father said, “shines as a sure and attractive model of total self-giving to God.”
Born March 28, 1515 in Avila, Spain, St. Teresa is known as a mystic and reformer. Entering the Carmelite order in 1535, she became disillusioned by the laxity of monastic life within the cloister, and committed herself to reforming the order. She is considered one of the founders of the Discalced Carmelites.
During her lifetime, St. Teresa wrote several important works on the spiritual life, such as Interior Castle and The Way of Perfection. Canonized 40 years after her death in 1622 by Pope Gregory XV, she was declared as one of the first ever female doctors of the Church in 1970 by Pope Paul VI.
St. Teresa of Avila remains relevant for consecrated men and women, Pope Francis wrote, as demonstrated by her prayer life, her proclamation of the Gospel, and her understanding of the importance of community life.
Describing her as “primarily a teacher of prayer,” the pontiff said that “the discovery of Christ's humanity was central to her experience.”
For St. Teresa, prayer arose in all occasions, not simply in times and places of seclusion, the Pope said. Moreover, she believed that “continuous prayer” – even when it was imperfect – had value.
“The saint asks us to be steadfast, faithful, even in times of dryness, personal difficulties or urgent needs that call us.”
The “concrete proposals” and methods of prayer left by St. Teresa offers “us a great treasure to renew consecrated life today,” the Pope said.
“Far from closing us in on ourselves or leading us only to inner balance, (they) always make us start again from Jesus and constitute a genuine school to grow in love for God and neighbor.”
Pope Francis went on to describe St. Teresa as a “tireless communicator of the Gospel,” at a time when the Church was in the midst of difficulties. Instigator of the “Teresian reform” of the laxities demonstrated by the Carmelite cloister in which she lived, she demonstrated a “missionary and ecclesial dimension has always marked the Carmelites and Discalced Carmelites,” he said.
“Even today the saint opens new horizons for us, she calls us to a great undertaking, to see the world with the eyes of Christ, to seek what He seeks and to love what He loves.”
Finally, St. Teresa recognized the importance of “authentic community life” in sustaining both prayer and the evangelical mission, the Pope said.
Warning against “the danger of individualism in fraternal life,” he added, the saint commends those living in community to place themselves “at the service of others,” with a humility consisting “of self-acceptance, awareness of one’s own dignity, missionary courage, gratitude and trust in God.”
“Teresian communities are called to become houses of communion, capable of witnessing to fraternal love and to the motherhood of the Church, presenting to the Lord the needs of the world, torn by divisions and wars.”
Pope Francis concluded by imparting his Apostolic blessing, praying that the Carmelite community's “witness to life” would allow “the joy and beauty of living the Gospel to shine and attracts many young people to follow Christ closely.”
The worldwide Year for Consecrated life began November 30, 2014 and will continue until the World Day of Consecrated Life on February 2, 2016.
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
To undertake (prayer [JH]) is a matter of life and death for all Christians. And no one, however lost he may be, should set it aside if God has awakened him to so great a good.
Camino de perfección 16:3
The continuation of the book is therefore entirely dedicated to prayer. However, Teresa has trouble finding a good starting point. What she actually wants to discuss is contemplative prayer (contemplación), but she realizes that not everyone is called to this. In this respect we can only trust in God’s grace. This is why it is better not to have a qualitative judgment on the different types of prayer and humbly to accept what the Lord in His goodness gives us (Camino de perfección 16:18). In the continuation Teresa does, however, make clear that prayer is not a goal in and of itself. We don’t come to prayer by reciting standard formulas but by inwardly directing ourselves towards God and placing our trust in Him alone. Then God Himself will lead us to the source of living water. According to Teresa this source is located in the centre of our soul and when we drink from this source, we are assuaged with a thirst that pulls us ever deeper into the infinite longing of God (perfection).
How right and true, as words coming from the mouth of Truth Itself, that such a person will not thirst for anything in this life – although thirst for the things of the next life increases much more than can ever be imagined through natural thirst!
How thirsty one becomes for this thirst! The soul understands the great value of this thirst, and even though the thirst is a most painful, wearying one, it brings with it the very satisfaction by which it is assuaged, in such a way that it is a thirst unquenchable except in earthly things. Indeed, this thirst slakes in such a way that when God satisfies the thirst, the greatest favour He can grant the soul is to leave in it this same need – and a greater one – to drink the water again.
Camino de perfección 19:2
For Teresa the inner goal of prayer is that we come into contact with God and learn to trust this Source within ourselves more and more. The way in which this is brought about is of secondary importance to her. Since God works in mysterious ways in this regard, it is not our place to determine this. What is important is that we open ourselves for God in prayer, trusting that He is truly leading us on a path that He alone knows. This is why the way of prayer is a royal road and on it we should not shrink or be irresolute:
For when you are about to gain the treasure – or steal it, since the Lord says that the violent take it away (Matthew 11:12) – by a royal road and by a safe road, the road chosen by our King and all His elect and saints, they will tell you that there are so many dangers and so many things to fear.
Camino de perfección 21:5
We travel the road of prayer, when we, in our longing, orient ourselves towards God and do not doubt that we are seen by God in this. This is why, according to Teresa, vocal prayer (oración vocal), as an expression of this inner orientation, cannot be separated from mental prayer (oración mental) or this inner orientation itself. For this it is not necessary to use long prayers. A simple Lord’s Prayer or Hail Mary suffices to direct our attention and enter into contact with the Source of our life:
Is it too much to ask you to turn your eyes from these exterior things in order to look at Him sometimes? Behold, He is not waiting for anything else, as He says to the bride, than that we look at Him. In the measure you desire Him, you will find Him. He so esteems our turning to look at Him that no diligence will be lacking on His part.
Camino de perfección 26:3
Jos Huls, O.Carm.,
The Spanish Inquisition had banned many spiritual books for the general public, and especially for women, and so the Sisters of the newly founded Convent of Saint Joseph in Avila asked St Teresa whether she herself would write something on prayer or the spiritual life (Morgain, 1997). For Teresa this was the go-ahead to start writing a new book of a practical nature. She gave the book the title “The Way of Perfection” (Camino de perfección), an introduction to the contemplative life. She begins her book, however, with the “disasters” that were then occurring in northern Europe as a consequence of the Reformation. She wants to do something against this “evil”, but must acknowledge her limited role as a woman in a highly male-dominated society (Álvarez, 2006):
I realized I was a woman and wretched and incapable of doing any of the useful things I desired to do in the service of the Lord. All my longing was and still is that since He has so many enemies and so few friends that these few friends be good ones. As a result I resolved to do the little that was in my power; that is, to follow the evangelical counsels as perfectly as I could and strive that these few persons who live here do the same. I did this trusting in the great goodness of God, who never fails to help anyone who is determined to give up everything for Him.
Camino de perfección 1:2[1]
Teresa’s stance with regard to this discrimination is not neutral and she is of the opinion that it goes against the spirit of the Christian faith. Jesus clearly made a stand for women and gave them a prominent role. Thus we read in a passage which was removed by a censor:
Nor did You, Lord, when You walked in the world, despise women; rather, You always, with great compassion, helped them. And You found as much love and more faith in them than You did in men. Among them was Your most blessed Mother, and through her merits – and because we wear her habit – we merit what, because of our offences, we do not deserve. Is it not enough, Lord, that the world has intimidated us... so that we may not do anything worthwhile for You in public or dare speak some truths that we lament over in secret, without Your also failing to hear so just a petition? I do not believe, Lord, that this could be true of Your goodness and justice, for You are a just judge and not like those of the world. Since the world’s judges are sons of Adam and all of them men, there is no virtue in women that they do not hold suspect. Yes, indeed, the day will come, my King, when everyone will be known for what he is. I do not speak for myself, because the world already knows my wickedness – and I have rejoiced that this wickedness is known publicly – but because I see that these are times in which it would be wrong to undervalue virtuous and strong souls, even though they are women.
Camino de perfección 3:7
Despite this clear protest against a policy which drives women further and further into the margins of public life, Teresa is not a champion of women’s rights before the term existed. Her protest mainly concerns the attitude of the Church of her time, which considers women suspect from the start. She opposes this attitude, because it is not in accordance with the Gospel and so goes against the will of God. Jesus acknowledges women and gives them their rightful place. And so Teresa is of the opinion that, in her time also, women can be important to combat the crisis in the Church. They may lead a (compulsorily) hidden life, but their share in the battle the Church has to fight against “evil” is no less for all that.
The danger of such a statement is that it remains nothing but a hollow phrase. For Teresa, however, it expressly has to do with the life she is called to as a Carmelite nun and which she rightfully calls a daring venture. There may be external attacks on the church, but the greatest danger comes from within and has to do with what Teresa calls offending Christ. Christ is not seen in His unimaginable offer of love. Instead people concern themselves with outward affairs that for the “world” may seem important, but do not touch the core of our existence. This is why the Sisters, as true soldiers of Christ, must defend the inside of the city and in so doing support the other soldiers who have to hold their own in the world (Camino de perfección 3:1). This inward movement is essential for Teresa and it evokes a battle that does not end at the boundaries of the convent. There, too, there is a continual tension between inside and outside, between that which is avowed and the true confrontation with God.
The Carmelite life, as it is advocated by Teresa, can best be described as a life lived purely out of the love of Christ or God. The Sisters have abandoned everything to entrust themselves with all their soul to this love. The “perfection” the Carmelite nuns have to strive for is therefore not to be sought in faultless conduct, but in the unconditionality of their surrender to this divine love. Although the “Way of Perfection” is primarily directed towards prayer (De Pablo Maroto, 1973; Herraiz Garcia, 1981), in the first chapters of the book Teresa mainly emphasizes the material expression of this in the Sisters’ life. In doing this she seems to want to express that the spiritual cannot be abstracted from the material. Prayer remains empty when it is not put into practice in life as it is concretely lived. Thus, as early as the second chapter of her book, Teresa indicates how important it is to be unconcerned and not to worry about material needs:
Don’t think, my Sisters, that because you do not strive to please those who are in the world you will lack food. I assure you that such will not be the case. Never seek sustenance through human schemes for you would die of hunger – and rightly so. Your eyes on your Spouse! He will sustain you. Once He is pleased, those least devoted to you will give you food even though they may not want to, as you have seen through experience. If in following this advice you should die of hunger, blessed be the nuns of St Joseph’s! For the love of the Lord, do not forget this. Since you have given up an income, give up worry about food. If you don’t, everything will be lost.
Camino de perfección 2:1
For Teresa, trust in God is not something abstract. We cannot say that we trust God, and at the same time cover ourselves on other levels. He who gives himself, gives himself completely, or his gift means nothing. The same is true of the three most important virtues of the Carmelite life – charity, detachment and humility – which are all directed towards easing us away from our self-absorption, trusting that we are in everything the Other’s concern.
Camino de perfección 5:15
Jos Huls, O.Carm., is a member of the Dutch Province of the Order and senior researcher at the Titus Brandsma Institute at Nijmegen in the Netherlands.
[1] The English edition used is Volume II of The Collected Works of St Teresa of Avila: The way of perfection. Meditations on the Song of Songs. The Interior Castle translated by Kieran Kavanaugh & Otilio Rodriguez. Washington: Institute of Carmelite Studies. 1980.
Jordan Aumann, O.P.
When Pope Paul VI proclaimed St. Teresa of Avila the first woman Doctor of the Church on September 27, 1970, he selected one of her many titles as the basis for conferring that honor on her: Teresa of Avila, Teacher of Prayer. The same sentiment was expressed by Pope John Paul II in a letter to the Superior General of the Discalced Carmelite Friars to mark the fourth centenary of the death of Teresa:
Teresa considered that her vocation and her mission was prayer in the Church and with the Church, which is a praying community moved by the Holy Spirit to adore the Father in and with Jesus "in spirit and in truth" (Jn 4:23). . . . Saint Teresa considered the life of prayer to be the greatest manifestation of the theological life of the faithful who, believing in the love of God, free themselves from everything to attain the full presence of that love (L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, November 9, 1981).
In all of her major works—The Life, The Way of Perfection, The Interior Castle—St. Teresa explains the practice of prayer. And it is noteworthy that she did not begin to write until she was 47 years old, after her second conversion and when she was already well-versed in the practice of prayer. Her teaching flows from her own experience and not from books on prayer. She does, however, acknowledge her indebtedness to two authors: Francisco de Osuna, the author of The Third Spiritual Alphabet, and Bernardino de Laredo, the author of The Ascent of Mount Sion. The book by Osuna treated of the prayer of recollection, and St. Teresa states that she was "delighted with the book and resolved to follow that way of prayer with all my might" (cf. The Life, chap. 4).The treatise by Laredo described the prayer of union, to which St. Teresa had attained "after almost twenty years of experience in the practice of prayer" (cf. The Life, chap. 23).
As we have noted, Teresa began writing her first work, The Life, at the age of 47, and she finished it three years later. In that same year (1565) she began The Way of Perfection, since the nuns of the first monastery of the reform has asked her to teach them about mental prayer. In these first two works, St. Teresa concentrates on the ascetical grades of prayer, but in The Interior Castle, written when she was 62 years old, she gives detailed descriptions of the mystical grades of prayer. Thus, in the Second Mansions of The Interior Castle she says: "I want to say very little to you about [the prayer of the Second Mansions] because I have written of it at length elsewhere."
St. Teresa realized that not all souls travel by the same path to perfection, but that God leads souls by many different roads. At the same time she knew that in order to teach the theology and practice of prayer, one has to follow a basic pattern or structure. The journey to spiritual perfection is a progressive passage from the lower to the higher stages of prayer, from ascetical to mystical prayer. And since St. Teresa treats only briefly of the lower grades of prayer in her definitive work, The Interior Castle, it is necessary to turn to her two earlier works for a fuller description of the ascetical grades of prayer.
The Life
In her first work St. Teresa explains the grades of prayer by using the symbol of the "four waters," or more precisely, the four methods of watering a garden. The first method is by drawing water from a well by means of a bucket attached to a rope. This is the first stage of prayer and it includes vocal prayer and discursive meditation. The individual is active, exercising the facultiesand reaping what benefit it can through one's own efforts. But lest the beginners think too much and turn their discursive meditationinto an intellectual exercise, St. Teresa advises them "not to spend all their time in doing so. Their method of prayer is most meritorious, but since they enjoy it so much, they sometimes fail to realize that they should have some kind of a sabbath, that is, a period of rest from their labors. . . . Let them imagine themselves, as I have suggested, in the presence of Christ, and let them continue conversing with him and delighting in him, without wearying their minds or exhausting themselves by composing speeches to him" (The Life, chap. 13).
The second method of watering a garden is by means of a waterwheel to which dippers are attached. As the wheel is turned, the water is poured into a trough that carries the water to the garden. St. Teresa explains that this stage, in which "the soul begins to recollect itself, borders on the supernatural. . . . This state is a recollecting of the faculties within the soul, so that its enjoyment of that contentment may provide greater delight" (The Life, chap. 13).
The third type of watering a garden is by irrigation by means of a running stream. It doesn't call for human effort as in the two previous methods. Prayer at this stage is mystical; that is, all the faculties are centered on God. "This kind of prayer," says St. Teresa, "is quite definitely a union of the entire soul with God" (The Life, chap. 17). She calls it a "sleep of the faculties" because they are totally occupied with God. "Not one of them, it seems, ventures to stir, nor can we cause any of them to be active except by striving to fix our attention very carefully on something else, and even then I don't think we could succeed entirely in doing so" (The Life, chap. 16).
The fourth and final method for watering a garden is by means of falling rain. This stage of prayer is totally mystical, meaning that it is infused by God and is not attained by human effort. It is called the prayer of union, and it admits of varying degrees.
The grades of prayer described by St. Teresa in The Life do not correspond to the division of prayer that is usually given in manuals of spiritual theology. There are several reasons for this, and the first one is possibly the fact of the discrepancy of 15 years between her first and the last major work. Secondly, the precise terminology to describe some the transitional grades of prayer between discursive mental prayer and the prayer of the transforming union did not come into common use until the seventeenth century. Thirdly, since she was writing from her own experience, it is possible that St. Teresa had passed immediately from discursive meditation to a high degree of infused, mystical prayer.
The Way of Perfection
When we turn to The Way of Perfection, which St. Teresa began in 1565, we notice that there are some adjustments in her division. Since the first nuns of the Teresian reform had asked her to teach them about mental prayer, it is logical that she would be more precise and detailed, especially when speaking of the earlier stages of mental prayer. One of the most obvious differences in The Way of Perfection is that St. Teresa tries to distinguish between the prayer of active recollection and the prayer of infused recollection.
In Chapters 28 and 29 she discusses the prayer of active recollection. After recalling that St. Augustine had said that he had looked for God in many places and finally found God within himself, St. Teresa asserts that one need not go to heaven to speak to God, nor is it necessary to speak in a loud voice. "However quietly we speak, he is so near that he will hear us. We need no wings to go in search of him, but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon him present within us" (chap. 28).
If one prays in this way, conversing with God who dwells in the soul through sanctifying grace, even if the prayer is vocal, the mind will be recollected. It is called prayer of recollection because "the soul gathers together all its faculties and enters within itself to be with its God" (loc. cit.). This may prove to be something of a struggle in the beginning, says St. Teresa, but if a person cultivates the habit of recollection, the soul and the will gain such power over the senses that "they will only have to make a sign to show that they wish to enterinto recollection and the senses will obey and let themselves be recollected" (ibid.).
When St. Teresa spoke of the prayer of recollection in Chapter 15 of The Life, she said that "this quiet and recollection. . .is not something that can be acquired." But in Chapter 29 of The Way of Perfection she says: "You must understand that this is not a supernatural state, but depends on our will, and that, by God's favor, we can enter it of our own accord. . . . For this is not a silence of the faculties; it is an enclosing of the faculties within itself by the soul." In other words, it is an ascetical, acquired grade of prayer, and not a mystical, infused grade.
What St. Teresa calls the prayer of quiet in Chapter 31, on the other hand, is definitely the prayer of infused recollection, a type of mystical, infused contemplation. Later on, she will further refine her terminology, but for the moment we should read her description of this "prayer of quiet."
I still want to describe this prayer of quiet to youin the way that I have heard it explained and as the Lord has been pleased to teach it to me. . . . This is a supernatural state and however hard we try, we cannot acquire it by ourselves. . . . The faculties are stilled and have no wish to move, for any movement they make seems to hinder the soul from loving God. They are not completely lost, however, since two of them are free and they can realize in whose presence they are. It is the will that is captive now. . . . The intellect tries to occupy itself with only one thing, and the memory has no desire to busy itself with more. They both see that this is the one thing necessary; anything else will cause them to be disturbed (chap. 31).
The predominant characteristics of the prayer of quiet are peace and joy, for the will is totally captivated by divine love. The faculties of intellect and memory are still free and may wander, but the soul should pay no attention to the operations of these faculties. To do so would cause distraction and anxiety. Later on, in the prayer of union, it will be impossible for the intellect and memory to operate independently, because all the faculties will be centered on God. But to learn St. Teresa's teaching on the prayer of union, we must consult her final major work.
The Interior Castle
Using the symbol of a castle containing seven apartments or suites (las moradas), St. Teresa identifies the first three as the stages of prayer in the ascetical phase of the spiritual life, and the treatment is very brief because she has already discussed the lower degrees of prayer in her previous works. The last four stages of prayer, from the fourth to the seventh moradas, represent the various degrees of mystical prayer. And at the very outset of her discussion of the grades of mystical prayer, St. Teresa advises the reader:
It may be that I am contradicting what I myself have said elsewhere. This is not surprising, because almost fifteen years have passed since then, and perhaps the Lord has now given me a clearer realization of these matters than I had at first (Fourth Mansions, chap. 2).
The most noteworthy changes in The Interior Castle are a clear distinction between acquired and infused recollection, further precisions concerning the prayer of quiet, and the description of sensible consolations and infused spiritual delights.
St. Teresa had previously discussed the prayer of recollection in Chapters 15 and 16 of The Life and in Chapters 28 and 29 of The Way of Perfection. Consequently, in The Interior Castle she makes only a brief reference to it, saying that "in the prayer of [acquired] recollection it is unnecessary to abandon [discursive] meditation and the activity of the intellect" (Fourth Mansions, chap. 3). In the subsequent literature on the practice of prayer this acquired recollection will be called by various names: prayer of simplicity, prayer of simple regard, acquired contemplation, and the loving awareness of God.
It is in the Fourth Mansions of The Interior Castle, says St. Teresa, that "we now begin to touch the supernatural." She is preparing to discuss the prayer of quiet, which she also calls the "prayer of consolations from God." However, before doing so, she turns back to describe the prayer of infused recollection.
First of all, I will say something (though not much, as I have dealt with it elsewhere) about another kind of prayer, which almost invariably begins before this one. It is a form of recollection which also seems to me supernatural. . . . Do not think that the soul can attain to him merely by trying to think of him as present within the soul. This is a good habit and an excellent kind of meditation, for it is founded on a truth, namely, that God is within us. But it is not the kind of prayer that I have in mind. . . . What I am describing is quite different.
As I understand it, the soul whom the Lord has been pleased to lead into this mansion will do best to act as I have said.. Let it try, without forcing itself or causing any turmoil, to put a stop to all discursive reasoning, yet not to suspend the intellect nor to cease from all thought, although it is good for it to remember that it is in God's presence and who this God is. If this experience should lead to a state of absorption, well and good, but it should not try to understand what this state is, because it is a gift bestowed on the will. Therefore, the will should be allowed to enjoy it and should not be active except to utter a few loving words (Fourth Mansions, chap. 3).
Thus, the prayer of infused recollection is the first grade of mystical prayer in the Teresian schema of the degrees of prayer. In this Fourth Mansion of the spiritual life she also clearly distinguishes the prayer of infused recollection from the prayer of quiet, wherein the human will is completely captivated by divine love. And since the will is now operating on the mystical level, the individual experiences peace, sweetness and spiritual delight, which are fruits of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes the experience is so intense that the individual passes into a swoon or a state of languor which St. Teresa calls a "sleep of the faculties." However, she also warns that hypersensitive persons of a weak constitution, bad health or an excessively austere life may sometimes think that they are experiencing a "sleep of the faculties" when in reality it is caused by one of the aforesaid conditions (Fourth Mansions, chap. 3).
Although some authors classify "sleep of the faculties" as a distinct grade of mystical prayer, St. Teresa makes so little of it that it seems to be merely an intensification of the prayer of quiet.
From the Fifth to the Seventh Mansions, St. Teresa treats of the final and highest grade of mystical prayer: the prayer of union. In this grade of mystical prayer there are various degrees of intensity and St. Teresa identifies them and describes the phenomena that normally accompany the prayer of union. In the Fifth Mansions she describes the prayer of simple union by saying that "God implants himself in the interior of the soul is such a way that, when it returns to itself, it cannot possibly doubt that God has been in it and it has been in God" (chap. 1). It should be noted, however, that although St. Teresa is here discussing the mystical prayer of union, she urges the nuns to "ask our Lord to give you this perfect love for your neighbor," because "if you are lacking in this virtue, you have not yet attained union" (chap. 3).
In the Sixth Mansions the soul experiences the spiritual betrothal (mystical espousal) which is usually accompanied by mystical phenomena such as painful trials and wounds of love, ecstasy and rapture, flights of the spirit, or even locutions and visions. This is the longest section of The Interior Castle—eleven chapters—because St. Teresa describes and explains the phenomena that accompany the mystical espousal. She also points out the dangers of such gifts, but admits that if they are received in the proper spirit, they can contribute greatly to the soul's purification and sanctification. The basic characteristic of this grade of mystical prayer is that the soul is wounded with love for the divine Spouse and seeks every opportunity to be alone with him. It willingly renounces everything that could possibly disturb its solitude.
Finally, in the Seventh Mansions, the soul experiences the transforming union or mystical marriage. This is the highest state of prayer that can be reached in this life on earth. St. Teresa begins by discussing the indwelling of the Trinity. The soul "sees these three Persons, individually, and yet, by a wonderful kind of knowledge which is given to it, the soul realizes that most certainly and truly all these three Persons are one Substance and one Power and one Knowledge and one God alone" (chap. 1). She then describes the various effects of the prayer of the Seventh Mansions, and she concludes The Interior Castle with some very important observations:
You must not build on foundations of prayer and contemplation alone, for unless you strive after the virtues and practice them, you will never grow to be more than dwarfs. . . . Anyone who fails to go forward begins to fall back, and love, I believe, can never be content for long where it is.
You may think that I am speaking about beginners, and that later on one may rest; but. . .the only repose that these souls enjoy is of an interior kind; of outward repose they get less and less. . . . We should desire and engage in prayer, not for our enjoyment, but for the sake of acquiring the strength which fits us for service. . . . Believe me, Martha and Mary must work together. . . . I will end by saying that we must not build towers without foundations, and that the Lord does not look so much at the magnitude of anything we do as at the love with which we do it. If we accomplish what we can, His Majesty will see to it that we become able to do more each day (Seventh Mansions, chap. 4).
By collating all the material contained in the works of St. Teresa and taking into account the contributions by later authors on the practice of prayer, we can offer the following schema of the grades of prayer:
Vocal Prayer, with attention to what one is saying or reading and God, whom one is addressing.
Discursive Meditation: consideration of a spiritual truth; application to oneself, and resolve to do something about it.
Affective Mental Prayer: one turns to "other," namely, God, and prayer becomes "the language of love."
Acquired Recollection: also called prayer of simplicity, prayer of simple regard, acquired contemplation, the loving awareness of God.
Infused Recollection: the first degree of infused, mystical contemplation.
Prayer of Quiet: the will is totally captivated by divine love; sometimes all the faculties are likewise captivated (sleep or ecstasy).
Prayer of Simple Union: both the intellect and the will are absorbed in God.
Prayer of Ecstatic Union: this is the "mystical espousal" or "conforming union."
Prayer of Transforming Union: also called the "mystical marriage" because it is the most intimate union of the soul with God that is possible in this life.
St. Teresa wrote her "Life" slowly. It was begun in spring, 1563, [35] and completed in May or June, 1565. She complains that she can only work at it by stealth on account of her duties at the distaff; [36] but the book is written with so much order and method, the manuscript is so free from mistakes, corrections and erasures, that we may conclude that while spinning she worked it out in her mind, so that the apparent delay proved most advantageous. In this respect the "Life" is superior to the first version of the "Way of Perfection." This latter work was printed during her lifetime, though it appeared only after her death. In 1586 the Definitory of the province of Discalced Carmelites decided upon the publication of the complete works of the Saint, but for obvious reasons deemed not only the members of her own Order but also Dominicans and Jesuits ineligible for the post of editor. Such of the manuscripts as could be found were therefore confided to the Augustinian Father, Luis de Leon, professor at Salamanca, who prepared the edition but did not live to carry it through the press. The fact that he did not know the autograph of the "Life" accounts for the numerous inaccuracies to be found in nearly all editions, but the publication of the original should ensure a great improvement for the future.
Saint Teresa began to write the Interior Castle on June 2, 1577, Trinity Sunday, and completed it on the eve of St. Andrew, November 29, of the same year. But there was a long interruption of five months, [1] so that the actual time spent in the composition of this work was reduced to about four weeks--a fortnight for the first, and another fortnight for the second half of the book. The rapidity with which it was written is easily explained by the fact that the Saint had conceived its plan some time previously. On January 17, 1577, she had written to her brother, Don Lorenzo de Cepeda, at Avila: I have asked the bishop--Don Alvaro Mendoza--for my book (the Life) because I shall perhaps complete it by adding those new favours our Lord has lately granted me. With these one may even compose a new work of considerable size, provided God grants me the grace of explaining myself; otherwise the loss will be of small account.' [2]She never asked for permission to write anything, but waited until she received a command from her superiors, which, in this case, came from Father Jerome Gracian, superior of the Discalced J. Carmelites of the Provinces of Andalusia and Castille, and from Don Alonso Velasquez, canon of Toledo, afterwards bishop of Osma. [3]The Saint was not in good health at the time; she repeatedly complains of noises in the head and other infirmities, but, worst of all, she was weighed down by troubles and anxieties resulting from the action of the superiors of the Order and of the Papal Nuncio against the nuns and friars of the Reform. Matters became even more serious when, in October, the nuns of the Incarnation of Avila proceeded to the election of a new prioress. Notwithstanding the prohibition of the provincial, fifty-five electors recorded their votes in favour of the Saint and were immediately declared excommunicated. The whole work of the Reform seemed on the brink of ruin, the Saint, as well as all her friends, was in disgrace, subject to obloquy and ill-treatment.
St. Teresa of Avila
Although St. Teresa of Avila lived and wrote almost four centuries ago,her superbly inspiring classic on the practice of prayer is as freshand meaningful today as it was when she first wrote it. The Way ofPerfection is a practical guide to prayer setting forth the Saint'scounsels and directives for the attainment of spiritual perfection.
Through the entire work there runs the author's desire to teach a deepand lasting love of prayer beginning with a treatment of the threeessentials of the prayer-filled life --fraternal love, detachment fromcreated things, and true humility. St. Teresa's counsels on these arenot only the fruit of lofty mental speculation, but of mature practicalexperience. The next section develops these ideas and brings the readerdirectly to the subjects of prayer and contemplation. St. Teresa thengives various maxims for the practice of prayer and leads up to thetopic which occupies the balance of the book--a detailed and inspiringcommentary on the Lord's Prayer.
Of all St. Teresa's writings, The Way of Perfection is the most easilyunderstood. Although it is a work of sublime mystical beauty, itsoutstanding hallmark is its simplicity which instructs, exhorts, andinspires all those who are seeking a more perfect way of life.
"I shall speak of nothing of which I have no experience, either in myown life or in observation of others, or which the Lord has not taughtme in prayer."-- Prologue
Almost four centuries have passed since St. Teresa of Avila, the greatSpanish mystic and reformer, committed to writing the experiences whichbrought her to the highest degree of sanctity. Her search for, andeventual union with, God have been recorded in her own world-renownedwritings--the autobiographical Life, the celebrated masterpieceInterior Castle and The Way of Perfection-- as well as in the othernumerous works which flowed from her pen while she lived.
The Way of Perfection was written during the height of controversywhich raged over the reforms St. Teresa enacted within the CarmeliteOrder. Its specific purpose was to serve as a guide in the practice ofprayer and it sets forth her counsels and directives for the attainmentof spiritual perfection through prayer. It was composed by St. Teresaat the express command of her superiors, and was written during thelate hours in order not to interfere with the day's already crowdedschedule.---Without doubt it fulfills the tribute given all St. Teresa's works byE. Allison Peers, the outstanding authority on her writings: "Work of asublime beauty bearing the ineffaceable hallmark of genius."
Pope Francis
To Monsignor Jesus Garcia Burillo, Bishop of Avila
Dear Brother:
On March 28, 1515, a girl was born in Avila who in time would be known as Saint Teresa of Jesus. As the fifth centenary of her birth approaches, I turn my gaze to that city to thank God for the gift of this great woman and to encourage the faithful of the beloved Diocese of Avila and all Spaniards to know the history of this famous founder, as well as to read her books that, together with her daughters in the numerous Carmelite convents spread throughout the world, continue to tell us who and how Mother Teresa was and what she can teach us, the men and women of today.
In the school of this roving Saint we learn to be pilgrims. The image of The Way can synthesize very well the lesson of her life and of her work. She understood her life as a journey of perfection by which God leads man, dwelling after dwelling, to Him and, at the same time, starts on the path to men. On what paths does the Lord want to lead us, in the footprints and by the hand of Saint Teresa? I would like to mention four, which have done me much good: the path of joy, of prayer, of fraternity and of time itself.
Teresa of Jesus invites her nuns to “go, serving joyfully” (The Way, 18, 5). True holiness is joy, because “a sad Saint is a sorry Saint.” Rather than being forced Saints, the Saints are the fruit of God’s grace to men. Each Saint manifests to us a feature of the multi-form face of God. In Saint Teresa we contemplate the God who, being “sovereign Majesty, eternal Wisdom” (Poem 2), reveals Himself to be close and a companion, who delights in conversing with men: God rejoices with us. And, born in the Saint on feeling His love was an infectious joy, which she could not dissimulate and which she transmitted to her surroundings.
This joy is a path that must be followed throughout life. It is not instantaneous, superficial, riotous. It must be procured already “at the beginning” (Life, 13, 1). It expresses the inner joy of the soul, it is humble and “modest” (cf. Foundations, 12, 1). It is not obtained by an easy path that avoids renunciation, suffering or the cross, but is found in enduring works and sorrows (cf. Life, 6, 2; 30, 8), looking at the Crucified and seeking the Risen One (cf. Way, 26, 4). So Saint Teresa’s joy was not egoistic or self-referential, but as that of Heaven. It consists in “rejoicing that all are joyful” (Way, 30, 5), putting oneself at the service of others with selfless love. As she said to one of her convents in difficulties, so the Saint also says to us today, especially to young people: “Do not cease to be joyful!” (Letter 284, 4). The Gospel is not a lead bag that is dragged with effort, but a source of joy that fills the heart with God and impels it to serve brothers!
The Saint also followed the path of prayer, which she described beautifully as a “friendship being often alone with the One we know loves us” (Life, 8, 5). When the times are “tough,” “strong friends of God” are necessary to support the weak (Life, 15, 5). To pray is not a way of fleeing, or putting oneself in a bubble, or isolating oneself, but of advancing in a friendship that grows all the more the more one addresses the Lord, “true friend” and faithful travel “companion,” with whom one can “suffer everything,” as He always “helps, gives strength and never fails” (Life, 22, 6). To pray “is not to think much but to love much” (Dwellings, IV, 1, 7); in turning one’s eyes to look at the one who does not cease to look at us lovingly and to suffer us patiently (cf. Way, 26, 3-4). God can lead souls to Himself on many paths, but prayer is the “sure path” (Life, 21, 5). To leave off prayer is to get lost (cf. Life, 19, 6). This advice of the Saint is of perennial timeliness. Go forward, then, on the path of prayer, with determination, without pausing, to the end! This is singularly true for all members of consecrated life. In a culture of the provisional, live the fidelity of “for ever, ever, ever” (Life, 1, 5); in a world without hope, show the fecundity of an “enamored heart” (Poem 5); and in a society with so many idols, be witnesses that “God alone suffices” (Poem 9).
We cannot go on this path alone, but together. For the reforming Saint, the path of prayer passes by the way of fraternity in the heart of Mother Church. This was her providential answer, born of divine inspiration and of her feminine intuition, to the problems of the Church and of the society of her time: to found small communities of women that, in imitation of the “Apostolic College,” would follow Christ, living the Gospel simply and supporting the whole Church with a life made up of prayer. “”He brought you here for this, Sisters” (Way, 2, 5) and this was the promise: “that Christ would go with us” (Life, 32, 11). What a lovely description of fraternity in the Church: to go together with Christ as brothers! To do this, Teresa does not recommend many things, but simply three: to love one another very much, to strip oneself of everything and to have true humility that “although I say it at the end is the principal base and embraces all the others” (Way, 4, 4). How she would desire, in these times, more fraternal communities where this path is followed: to walk in the truth of the humility that frees us from ourselves, to love others more and better, especially the poorest! There is nothing lovelier than to live and die as children of this Mother Church!
Precisely because she is a Mother with open doors, the Church is always walking toward men to take to them that “living water” (cf. John 4:10) that waters the garden of their thirsting heart. The holy writer and teacher of prayer was at the same time a founder and missionary on the roads of Spain. Her mystical experience did not separate her from the world or from people’s preoccupations. On the contrary, it gave her new impulse and courage for action and the duties of each day, because “the Lord is” also “among the cooking-pots” (Foundations, 5, 8). She lived the difficulties of her time, which were so complicated, without yielding to the temptation of bitter lament, but instead accepting them in faith as an opportunity to take another step on the path. Because, “it is always the time for God to do great favors to one who truly serves Him” (Foundations, 4, 6).
Teresa says to us today: Pray more to understand well what is happening around you and so to act better. Prayer conquers pessimism and generates good initiatives (cf. Dwellings VII, 4, 6). This is Teresian realism, which calls for works instead of emotions, and love instead of dreams, the realism of humble love in face of a laborious asceticism! Sometimes the Saint abbreviates her charming letters saying: “We are on the way” (Letter 469, 7.9), as an expression of the urgency to continue to the end with the task begun. When the world is burning, one cannot lose time in matters of little importance. May she infect all with this holy haste to go on the paths of our own time, with the Gospel in hand and the Spirit in our hearts!
“It is time to walk!” (Ana of Saint Bartholomew, Last Actions of Saint Teresa’s Life). These words of Saint Teresa of Avila, on the point of dying, are the synthesis of her life and become for us, especially for the Carmelite family, her Avila fellow countrymen and all Spaniards, a precious legacy to keep and enrich.
Dear Brother, with my cordial greeting, I say to all: It is time to walk, going on the paths of joy, of prayer, of fraternity, of time lived as a grace! Let us go on the paths of life by the hand of Saint Teresa. Her footprints lead us always to Jesus.
I ask you, please, to pray for me, as I need it. May Jesus bless you and the Holy Virgin take care of you.
Fraternally,
FRANCIS
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Bishop Boyce
Here is a homily given Sunday by Bishop Philip Boyce of Rapho, at Mass in RTÉ studios, Donnybrook.
* * *
There’s a lovely story told about the life of Saint Teresa, one handed down to us by tradition. One day as she was making her way along the corridor in the convent of the Incarnation, in Avila, she saw a small boy standing at the foot of the stairs.
‘Who are you?’ the child asked her
‘I am Teresa of Jesus’, she told him
‘And who are you?
‘I am Jesus of Teresa’, the child replied, and vanished.
The story beautifully illustrates the deep love and friendship that existed between Teresa and the one she liked to call ‘the Good Jesus’
Indeed it was this passionate love for Jesus that filled her whole life. Despite bitter opposition, misunderstandings and poor health, she faithfully followed a divine call, filled with a burning love for the Lord.
Teresa was a woman of exceptional human qualities: warm and sociable, charming and intelligent. She had a great gift for friendship and had many friends. She loved life and all things human and she said herself she had little time for sour-faced saints. It’s little wonder that she has become one of the most endearing of all Christian saints and the most approachable of the mystics.
Saint Teresa was born in 1515, five hundred years ago, in the walled city of Avila in Spain. At the age of twenty-one she entered the Carmelite convent of the Incarnation. She spent twenty years, she tells us ‘on a stormy sea’, torn by countless distractions and the endless comings and goings of the convent. But she always tried to be faithful to prayer and, in the end, it was prayer that enabled her to make a total surrender of herself to God. She fell in love with Jesus and there was no turning back. A new life and a new world opened up for her.
The resulting explosion of love and her desire to do ‘great things for God’ could not be contained within the enclosed walls of a convent but overflowed in action and love for the Church, namely, the foundation of the Carmelite reform.
Teresa spent the last twenty years of her life establishing the Carmelite reform throughout the length and breadth of Spain, from Burgos in the north to Seville in the south, a distance of three hundred miles. Each foundation brought its own hardship: negotiations with civil and ecclesiastical authorities, local opposition, misunderstanding, financial worries and exhausting journeys along winding roads and rough terrain. Before she died in 1582 there were seventeen convents of nuns and fifteen monasteries of friars stretching from one end of Spain to the other.
One of the other great legacies of Saint Teresa is her writings. These have enriched the Church for the past five hundred years. She was a reluctant writer at first but once she set her pen to paper she was on fire with inspiration. Her writings reflect, in a very personal way, the richness of her own spiritual journey and are a faithful witness to her own dynamic spirit. The ease and down-to-earth quality of her writing has made her one of best and surest guides in the restless searching of the human spirit. Little wonder that she was declared Doctor of the Church by Pope Paul VI in 1970 - the first woman to be given that title. She is one of the great mystical figures of the Church, not simply on account of the extraordinary graces she received, but more so because of her gift of being able to communicate and put into words what is almost beyond words.
Prayer is what she talks about most of all in her writings. For her, prayer was about friendship, friendship with the Lord. Like any friendship it grows by communication, and that’s what prayer was for her; a heart-to-heart conversation with someone she knew loved her.
So attractive is her message that many still follow her Carmelite way of life. Indeed, there may be some young women or young men tuned in to our broadcast this morning who feel called to a life of total dedication to God and to the Church in a Carmelite convent or monastery. Let them not be afraid to take the step.
But the greatness of Teresa is not in her achievements or in her writings, but in her own love of God. It is not what she tells us about herself that matters most but what she tells us of God. The essential witness of Teresa is to the reality of the spiritual world, a world in which God is encountered as real and personal, as someone who loves each one of us unconditionally and is intimately involved in the everyday realities of our lives.
God, she tells us, has so many enemies and so few friends that these friends should be good ones. She certainly was a friend of God, a daughter of the Church and a servant of love. And she invites and encourages us to share that journey with her.
http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/bishop-boyce-praises-testimony-of-st-teresa-of-jesus
"Thy Kingdom Come" in Jesus of Nazareth and The Way of Perfection
Written byTheir Respective Reasons for Writing
It should be kept in mind that in his Foreword, Benedict XVI describes his book as his personal search “for the face of the Lord” (Ps. 27:28, and as “in no way an exercise of the magisterium,” adding, “Everyone is free, then, to contradict me.” He considers the Lord’s Prayer for what it shows about Jesus’ claim to divinity, about Jesus' claim to be one with the Father, and for what else it tells us about who Jesus is.
Teresa of Avila, on the other hand, writes to encourage her readers toward giving the complete gift of themselves to God, “the surrender of our wills to his, and detachment from creatures,” a surrender that is needed for perfection in contemplation. She draws from the Lord's Prayer more about what our response to Jesus should be.
Their different reasons for writing, as well as the difference between the theological context of our present day and that of sixteenth century Spain, are among the differences between their books about the same prayer. Of course, Pope Benedict is also a theologian and pope, while St. Teresa lived in a day in which women did not learn to read much of the Latin in which Scripture was written. However, that difference is not as important when she is writing about the Lord's Prayer, because it is a portion of Scripture that she would have known deeply from the Mass and from praying the Hours, from what she had learned from priests who were her spiritual advisers, and what she had learned from books. (See the post About St. Teresa of Avila for more background information on that.)
This series of posts will consider both similarities and differences between the two books. Given the nature of the texts, discussions of the differences should not be taken as implying that I believe one of them to be more correct than the other on any point of difference discussed in these posts. Quite often, these are differences of emphasis.
The One Who Comes Throughout the Whole of History
In discussing Jesus' prayer "Thy Kingdom come" in the Lord's Prayer, Pope Benedict states, “the deepest theme of Jesus’ preaching was his own mystery, the mystery of the Son in whom God is among us and keeps his word; he announces the Kingdom of God as coming and as having come in his person.” (pg. 188) The Sermon on the Mount, he says, was thus eschatological in a sense discussed by Charles H. Dodd in the early 20th century. Jesus, who has come, is “the One who comes throughout the whole of history” in an “eschatology in process of realization.” (pg. 188).
Such a concept of an eschatology throughout the whole of history also plays a role in St. Teresa’s understanding of the Lord's Prayer. She explains it more clearly in her discussion of “Give us this day our daily bread” than in her discussion of “Thy Kingdom come." In Chapter 34 of The Way of Perfection, she says that the word “daily” in “daily bread” “seems to mean forever.” That is so, she says, because in asking “give us this day, Lord,” we are asking him to “be ours every day.” She explains [The Way of Perfection 34:1]:
“I’ve come to think that it is because here on earth we possess him [Jesus] and also in heaven we will possess him if we profit well by his company. . . . In saying ‘this day,’ it seems to me, he is referring to one day: that which lasts as long as the world and no longer. And one day indeed!”
What Dodd saw in the early 20th century, and Pope Benedict affirms in Jesus of Nazareth, supports St. Teresa’s view of the Lord’s Prayer in its eschatological aspect, although she draws the concept from “Give us this day our daily bread,” while Dodd and Benedict XVI draw that concept from “Thy Kingdom come . . . on earth as it is in heaven.” What Pope Benedict describes as "the One who comes throughout the whole of history" is not clearly distinguishable from what St. Teresa describes as "that which lasts as long as the world and no longer."
The Kingdom of God
Benedict first addresses the meaning of the “Kingdom of God” as the subject matter of Chapter 3 of Jesus of Nazareth, beginning with Jesus’ preaching recorded in Mark 1:14-15: “The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand.” Matthew 4:23 and 9:35 also mention that Jesus went through Galilee preaching “the Gospel of the Kingdom.” In Luke 17:20-21, we are told that Jesus told the Pharisees, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”
Pope Benedict concurs with a “growing tendency to hold that Christ uses these words to refer to himself: He, who is in our midst, is the ‘Kingdom of God,’ only we do not know him (cf. Jn 1:30).” Considering Jesus’ words in Luke 11:20 (“But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the Kingdom of God has come upon you”), Benedict writes that “it is in his action, accomplished in the Holy Spirit. In this sense, it is in and through him that the Kingdom of God becomes present here and now, that it ‘is drawing near.’”
St. Teresa’s writing about the Kingdom of God in The Way of Perfection does not conclude that Christ himself is the Kingdom of God. She is not writing exegetically. Rather, she speaks more specifically of Jesus asking the Father for the Father’s Kingdom to come, and observes that Jesus has shown that He is one with the Father. [The Way of Perfection 27:4] Her writing about prayer describes God as a King or Emperor in his palace, and of a little heaven within each person's soul, which is His throne. Her analytical understanding of the Kingdom of God is thus drawn more from details here and there in various parts of her book, and cannot be found in a specific analysis within her chapter on the phrase "Thy Kingdom come."
Understanding something of the eschatological implications of the Kingdom of God throughout the whole of history, without drawing the specific Christological implications seen in the Holy Father’s book, she writes in Chapter 28 of The Way of Perfection:
“You already know that God is everywhere. It’s obvious, then, that where the king is, there is his court; in sum, wherever God is, there is heaven. Without a doubt you can believe that where His Majesty is present, all glory is present. . . . All one need do is go into solitude and look at him within oneself” [28:2] . . . I have the Emperor of heaven and earth in my house” [28:3] . . . within this little heaven of our soul [28:5] . . . in this palace dwells this mighty King who has been gracious enough to become your Father; and that he is seated upon an extremely valuable throne, which is your heart. [28:9]
Toward the end of Chapter 28, what she has said of the Father as King takes on Christological implications, as she writes:
“But what a marvelous thing, that he who would fill a thousand worlds and many more with his grandeur would enclose himself in something so small! (And so he wanted to enclose himself in the womb of his most Blessed Mother.) In fact, since he is Lord he is free to do what he wants, and since he loves us he adapts himself to our size.” [28:11]
That concept of God as King on the throne of our hearts becomes the basis for her discussion of the petition “Thy Kingdom Come.” In Chapter 31, rather than drawing from Jesus' preaching on the Kingdom of God as does Pope Benedict, St. Teresa mentions Simeon, who said of the child Jesus, in Luke 2:29, “my eyes have seen your salvation.” It was Jesus, she says, who made Simeon understand, and who can make our soul understand. “But it [the soul] sees it is in the kingdom, at least near the King who will give the kingdom to the soul.” [31:2]
It is in Chapter 32 of The Way of Perfection that St. Teresa takes up the phrase “Thy Kingdom Come” specifically in her discussion of The Lord's Prayer. There, connecting the coming of the Kingdom with the prayer that God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven, she writes: “For once the earth has become heaven, the possibility is there for your will to be done in me.” [32:2]. There, she connects the Kingdom of God in the present not only with the presence of God in the palace of our souls, but also with our ability to do God’s will. In prayer, similarly, she writes:
“Since your Son gave you this will of mine in the name of all, there’s no reason for any lack on my part. But grant me the favor of your kingdom that I may do your will, since he asked for this kingdom for me, and use me as you would your own possession, in conformity with your will.” [32:10]
Pope Benedict XVI, in Jesus of Nazareth, separately discusses the phrase “Thy Will Be Done on earth as it is in heaven." There is nonetheless considerable consistency between them on this point. Pope Benedict writes, “The essence of heaven is oneness with God’s will, the oneness of will and truth. Earth becomes ‘heaven when and insofar as God’s will is done there . . .” (pg. 147). As Jesus is the Kingdom of God, He is also “'heaven’ in the deepest and truest sense of the word – he in whom and through whom God’s will is wholly done.” (pg. 150). Thus, Pope Benedict concludes that what we are praying for is that we will come closer to God so that His will can make us capable of becoming just.
The Transfiguration
In Chapter 31 of The Way of Perfection, St. Teresa associates the Kingdom of God with the Transfiguration in describing the prayer of quiet. In describing those who are in prayer, happy close to God, so that in saying the “Our Father” once, an hour passes, she writes:
“They are within the palace, near the King, and they see that he is beginning to give them here his kingdom. It doesn’t seem to them that they are in the world. . . . In sum, while this prayer lasts they are so absorbed and engulfed with the satisfaction and delight they experience within themselves that they do not remember there is more to desire; they would eagerly say with St. Peter: ‘Lord, let us build three dwelling places here.’”
That reference to the Transfiguration and three dwelling places mentioned by St. Peter is interesting in the light of the Pope’s discussion of the Transfiguration in Chapter 9 of Jesus of Nazareth. Modern exegesis, considering the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration placed within the Jewish calendar, connects the Transfiguration with the Feast of Tabernacles. Pope Benedict mentions twentieth century historian Jean Daniélou's analysis of the messianic interpretation of that feast in the Judaism of Jesus’ day. The huts of the Jewish feast of Sukkoth (Tabernacles) “were thought of, not only as a remembrance of the protection of God in the desert, but also as a prefiguration of the Sukkoth in which the just are to dwell in the age to come. Thus, it seems that a very exact eschatological symbolism was attached to the most characteristic rite of the Feast of Tabernacles, as this was celebrated in Jewish times.” [Pope Benedict, at 314-315, quoting Jean Daniélou’s book Bible and Liturgy, pp. 334f].
Thus, St. Teresa's connection of the prayer of quiet, in which the Father is "beginning to give them the Kingdom," with the Transfiguration offers an eschatological view of the Transfiguration, and recent exegesis finds such a view to be supported in the Jewish eschatological symbolism of the feast of Sukkoth in which the Transfiguration is set.
Also like St. Teresa, Pope Benedict XVI, in Jesus of Nazareth, sees the Transfiguration as “a prayer event” (pg. 310).
While not clear, it is possible that St. Teresa had some awareness that the Jewish concept of the huts of Sukkoth had implications of the Kingdom of God in the age to come. She had one Jewish grandparent, and it was not unusual for 16th century Spanish Jews to become Catholic. Although not necessary to an understanding of her text, she may have learned more as a child about the Jewish feasts mentioned in Scripture than she expressly revealed. The extent of her understanding of the Jewish implications explained by the Holy Father is thus unknown.
Conclusion
While St. Teresa was not writing exegetically, and the exegetical implications of what she wrote are found interspersed with discussions of contemplation, there is remarkable consistency between her understanding of the Kingdom of God and the understanding expressed in Pope Benedict’s book Jesus of Nazareth. Where they differ is primarily in the Holy Father's conclusion, drawing from recent exegetical scholarship, that Jesus was saying specifically that He is the Kingdom of God and that He is heaven. St. Teresa sees Jesus as having prayed that the Father would give us his Kingdom -- and she describes both God the Father and Jesus as the King of that Kingdom within us. The difference thus lies in whether Jesus and the Father, as one, are the King with our hearts, with our hearts seen as His throne, or whether He is, moreover, the Kingdom of God within us.
The Face of the Lord in Jesus of Nazareth and The Way of Perfection
Written byPope Benedict XVI's Foreword says this his writing in Jesus of Nazareth is “in no way an exercise of the magisterium,” adding, “Everyone is free, then, to contradict me.” These posts discuss both their similarities and differences between them.
Deliver Us From Evil
The last petition of the Lord’s Prayer is “Deliver us from evil.”
Pope Benedict XVI writes that, in this petition, we are asking God to protect us from evil in this world. In that sense, he writes, “[T]he last petition brings us back to the first three: In asking to be liberated from the power of evil, we are ultimately asking for God’s Kingdom, for union with his will, and for the sanctification of his name. Throughout the ages, though, men and women of prayer have interpreted this petition in a broader sense. In the midst of the world’s tribulations, they have also begged God to set a limit to the evils that ravage the world and our lives.” (Jesus of Nazareth, pg. 167)
St. Teresa of Avila sees this petition as asking for God’s Kingdom in eternity, more than asking God to limit the evil in this world and in this life. She does not expect to be delivered from all evil in this life, and thus prays to be delivered from evil beyond the grave. (42:2). God, she says, wants us to desire the eternal. (42:4)
She prays (42:2):
“Deliver me, Lord, from this shadow of death, deliver me from so many trials, deliver me from so many sufferings, deliver me from so many changes, from so many compliments that we are forced to receive while still living . . . .”
In the weariness of seeing that she has not lived the way she should have lived, she writes, “O my Lord and my God, deliver me now from all evil and be pleased to bring me to the place where all blessings are.”
Knowing the Mind and Will of God
While St. Teresa prays “deliver us from evil” with the expectation that this prayer will not be fully answered before eternity, she writes much about the importance of obedience in this life, and about the need for communion with Christ to make us better able to do God's will in this life.
In seeking to know “who the Master is who taught us this prayer” (St. Teresa's words), both Benedict XVI and St. Teresa seek both knowledge about the Lord and the personal encounter with the Lord that involves knowing Him.
Going back to the Pope's introduction of his discussion of the Lord’s Prayer, he writes: “God is not some distant stranger. He shows us his face in Jesus. In what Jesus does and wills, we come to know the mind and will of God himself.”
St. Teresa writes about the need to do God’s will, and about the way Jesus teaches us how to do that. Since Jesus “knows how the love of his Father can be obtained, he teaches us how and by what means we must serve him.” The more our deeds reflect Christ’s teaching, Christ “begins to commune with the soul in so intimate a friendship that he not only gives it back its own will but gives it his.” (The Way of Perfection, 32:12)
On Being Human
In his chapter on the Lord’s Prayer, Pope Benedict writes “The Lord tells us how we are to pray.” Jesus does so because “being human is essentially about relation to God,” such that speaking with, and listening to Him is “an essential part of it.”
St. Teresa, similarly, counsels, “Never seek sustenance through human schemes, for you will die of hunger—and rightly so. Your eyes on your Spouse! He will sustain you.” (2:1)
The Face of the Lord
In his Foreword to Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict writes that the book is “an expression of my personal search ‘for the face of the Lord’ (cf. Ps 27:8).”
He writes, “Our sonship turns out to be identical with following Christ.” We become increasingly God’s children “by growing more and more deeply in communion with Jesus.”
St. Teresa, similarly, counsels her nuns to speak with Christ “as with a father, or a brother, or a lord, or as with a spouse” and “he will teach you what you must do in order to please him.” (28:3).
Both of them seek that longing for an increasing personal encounter with Jesus that can be expressed as seeking the face of the Lord.
Conclusion
While they do not always share the same interpretation of each petition of the Lord’s Prayer, both Pope Benedict XVI and St. Teresa of Avila write of seeking to know Christ, and not only seeking to know about Him. They seek to know and do His will, and -- in watching how Jesus prays -- to better know the mind and will of God. Above all, they both seek to “grow more and more deeply in communion with Jesus” (Pope Benedict's words). In writing for others, they both seek to share with us those things they know about prayer and about Jesus that will help us who read their work to more and more deeply know Jesus and the mind and will of the Lord.
“Pay great attention, daughters, to this point which I shall now make, because sometimes thinking yourselves so wicked may be humility and virtue and at other times a very great temptation. I have had experience of this, so I know it is true. Humility, however deep it be, neither disquiets nor troubles nor disturbs the soul; it is accompanied by peace, joy and tranquility. Although, on realizing how wicked we are, we can see clearly that we deserve to be in hell, and are distressed by our sinfulness, and rightly think that everyone should hate us, yet, if our humility is true, this distress is accompanied by an interior peace and joy of which we should not like to be deprived. Far from disturbing or depressing the soul, it enlarges it and makes it fit to serve God better. The other kind of distress only disturbs and upsets the mind and troubles the soul, so grievous is it. I think the devil is anxious for us to believe that we are humble, and, if he can, to lead us to distrust God.
When you find yourselves in this state, cease thinking, so far as you can, of your own wretchedness, and think of the mercy of God and of His love and His sufferings for us. If your state of mind is the result of temptation, you will be unable to do even this, for it will not allow you to quiet your thoughts or to fix them on anything but will only weary you the more: it will be a great thing if you can recognize it as a temptation. This is what happens when we perform excessive penances in order to make ourselves believe that, because of what we are doing, we are more penitent than others. If we conceal our penances from our confessor or superior, or if we are told to give them up and do not obey, that is a clear case of temptation. Always try to obey, however much it may hurt you to do so, for that is the greatest possible perfection.” (Way of Perfection, Ch. 39, para. 3).
