October 1, 2008

Saint Therese of Lisieux, Virgin & Doctor of the Church

The Little Flower, of the child of Jesus & of the Holy Face
1873-1897 – Feast - October 1

Therese Martin was the last of nine children born to Louis and Zelie Martin on January 2, 1873, in Alencon France. However, only five of these children lived to reach adulthood. Precocious and sensitive, Therese needed much attention. Her mother died when she was 4 years old. As a result, her father and sisters babied young Therese. She had a spirit that wanted everything.
At the age of 14, on Christmas Eve in 1886, Therese had a conversion that transformed her life. From then on, her powerful energy and sensitive spirit were turned toward love, instead of keeping herself happy. At 15, she entered the Carmelite convent in Lisieux to give her whole life to God. She took the religious name Sister Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face. Living a hidden, simple life of prayer, she was gifted with great intimacy with God. Through sickness and dark nights of doubt and fear, she remained faithful to God, rooted in his merciful love. After a long struggle with tuberculosis, she died on September 30, 1897, at the age of 24. Her last words were the story of her life: "My God, I love You!"
The world came to know Therese through her autobiography, Story of a Soul. She described her life as a "little way of spiritual childhood." She lived each day with an unshakeable confidence in God's love. "What matters in life," she wrote, "is not great deeds, but great love." She lived and taught a spirituality of attending to everyone and everything well and with love. She believed that just as a child becomes enamored with what is before her, we should also have a childlike focus and totally attentive love. Therese's spirituality is of doing the ordinary, with extraordinary love.

Therese saw the seasons as reflecting the seasons of God's love affair with us. She loved flowers and saw herself as the "little flower of Jesus," who gave glory to God by just being her beautiful little self among all the other flowers in God's garden. Because of this beautiful analogy, the title "little flower" remained with St. Therese.
Her inspiration and powerful presence from heaven touched many people very quickly. Pope Pius XI canonized her on May 17, 1925. Had she lived, she would have been only 52 years old when she was declared a Saint.
"My mission - to make God loved - will begin after my death," she said. "I will spend my time in heaven doing good on earth. I will let fall a shower of roses." Roses have been described and experienced as Saint Therese's signature. Countless millions have been touched by her intercession and imitate her "little way." She has been acclaimed "the greatest saint of modern times." In 1997, Pope John Paul II declared St. Therese a Doctor of the Church - the only Doctor of his pontificate - in tribute to the powerful way her spirituality has influenced people all over the world.

The message of St. Therese is beautiful, inspiring and simple.

Important Dates in the Life of St. Therese

1873. January 2. St. Therese born at Alencon.
1873. January 4. Baptized.
1877. August 28. Her mother's death.
1877. November. Arrives at Les Buissonnets, Lisieux.
1878. Her first confession.
1882. October 2. Pauline enters Carmel.
1883. May 13. Her miraculous cure by the Blessed Virgin.
1884. May 8. Her first Holy Communion.
1884. June 14. She is confirmed.
1886. October 15. Marie enters Carmel.
1887. May 29. Receives father's permission to enter Carmel.
1887. November 4-December 2. Pilgrimage to Rome.
1887. November 20. She speaks to Pope Leo XIII.
1888. April 9. She enters the Carmel of Lisieux.
1889. January 10. She receives the habit.
1890. September 8. She makes her profession
1890. September 24. She takes the veil.
1894. September 14. Celine enters Camel.
1894. December. She is ordered to write the story of her childhood.
1895. June 9. She offers herself as a victim to the Merciful Love of God.
1896. January 20. She gives Mother Agnes the first eight chapters of "A Story of a Soul."
1896. April 3. Her first hemorrhage.
1896. September 8. She begins to write chapter eleven of her autobiography—at the request of her sister Marie.
1897. June 3. Mother Marie de Gonzague orders her to continue her autobiography.
1897. July 2. She gives Mother Marie de Gonzague the rest of her manuscript.
1897. August 19. She Holy Communion for the last time.
1897. September 30. St. Therese dies.
1897. October 4. The Saint is buried.
1898. September 30. The first edition 2,000 copies, of "A Story of a Soul" is published.
1910. Rome authorizes the bishop of Bayeux and Lisieux to open the proceedings of the cause by examining the writings of St. Therese.
1911. September 6. The body of the Saint is exhumed from the ground of the Lisieux cemetery and placed in a vault.
1912. December 10. In Rome, her writings are approved.
1914. June 10. Pope Pius X signs the decree introducing the cause in Rome.
1921. August 14. Pope Benedict XV issues a decree stating that she practiced the Christian virtues in a heroic manner.
1923. February. Decree approving the miracles for the beatification. Sermon by Pope Pius XI.
1923. April 29. She is Beatified by Pope Pius XI.
1925. March 19. Decree approving the miracles for canonization. Sermon by Pope Pius XI
1925. May 17. She is canonized by Pope Pius XI.
1927. May 17. Statue of St. Therese is paced in the Vatican gardens.
1927. July 13. The Feast of St. Therese of the Child Jesus is extended to the Universal Church. Its date is October 1.
1927. December 14. By Pontifical Decree St. Therese is made equal Patron, with St. Francis Xavier of all Missions and Missionaries.
1929. September 30 Cardinal Charost Archbishop of Rennes and Papal Legate lays the foundation stone of the basilica of St. Therese in Lisieux.
1932. June 26-July 3. Theresian congress at Lisieux.
1937. July 7-11. National Eucharistic congress held at Lisieux.
1937. July 11. Opening and consecrating of the basilicas of St. Therese in Lisieux by the papal legate Cardinal Pacelli, who later became Pope Pius XII.
1944. May 3. Pope Pius XII makes St. Therese the secondary Patron of France equal to St Jeanne d'Arc.
1997. October 19. St. Therese proclaimed a Doctor of the Church by Pope John Paul II.

Prayer in the Life of St. Therese as a Carmelite

Regarding her becoming a Carmelite St. Therese stated that she was there to save souls and to pray for priests. She felt she should do this by suffering. The more she suffered the more she was attracted to it. Of course, prayer would give her the strength to suffer.
Since the life of a contemplative is a life of prayer and penance, in order to understand the prayer of St. Therese let us consider her penances and spirit of mortification. Before St. Therese entered Carmel she denied her will and did little penances or acts of mortification. In Carmel she spoke against extraordinary penances as not her way. Yet the penances and austerity she accepted and desired were quite great. She took the discipline (a little whip or scourge used to strike one's shoulders and back) and when it was discussed she said she wanted to feel as much pain as possible. She then "went on to tell Celine that although tears often came to her eyes she forced herself to smile in order, as she said, that her face might express the feelings of her heart—delight at suffering in unison with Jesus."
In Carmel St. Therese had much to suffer. Without complaining she accepted poor food, poverty, work and most painful of all, the cold. Some nights she never slept, she simply shivered the entire night. Her hands were covered with chilblains. In the summer she worked in an airless part of the laundry and this was by her own choice. Whenever she was mistreated, whether it was water accidentally splashed in her face in the laundry or the impatience of an elderly and sickly nun, St. Therese never complained. To this she added many hidden acts of self-denial that completely conquered her self-will and allowed God's will to reign in her, so much so, that during her last illness she could say that she had never done her own will.
It is necessary to understand that the prayer of St. Therese was coupled with a solid foundation of penance and mortification. Her prayer was one of a faithful soul, willing to carry her cross. Her prayer was the prayer of one who first accepted suffering, then desired it, then found peace and joy in suffering until she became a victim for reparation and the salvation of souls.
From her first days in Carmel St. Therese had much to suffer. Not the least of her suffering was dryness and aridity in prayer. This was especially acute during her retreats. Before her reception of the habit St. Therese made a retreat that was "in the desert" of dryness. During this retreat she wrote to Pauline of dryness and said that she was plunged in darkness. Yet she was glad for this darkness if, in making an offering of it, she could console Jesus. She found consolation in looking at the image of the Holy Face of Jesus. She advised Celine to gaze at His Holy Face and see His glazed and sunken eyes. She told her sister that then she would see that He loves us.
When St. Therese experienced painful dryness she considered it a trial to detach her from all that was not Jesus. When she seemed so poor and had nothing to offer God in prayer she offered Him little "nothings." Following St. Teresa of Avila St. Therese taught that when we have no wood to get the fire of our love going we can still cast on this fire a few straws. These acts of good intention are very pleasing to God. Then God will place much wood on the fire. St. Therese tells us that she experienced this.
After St. Therese received the habit her spiritual dryness became even worse. It became, as she said, her "daily bread." Yet she was quite pleased since this way all her desires for suffering were fulfilled. Even after receiving Holy Communion she was in this state of aridity and at that time she had the least consolation. This trial of aridity was, according to Father Jarmart, O.C.D., the author of "The Complete Spirituality of St. Therese," part of the Saint's Dark Nights. At first, he tells us, she was tried regarding the virtue of charity and later there was a more painful trial of her faith and hope, the other theological virtues. This aridity, along with other sufferings, especially her father's illness, seems to have made up the Dark Night of the Senses for the Saint.
Let us try learn at what "stage" of Prayer St. Therese was at during these years in Carmel, at least until her Dark Night of the Soul began. Later we shall consider her "offering" which was made during these years of dryness yet before the trial of faith began. Of course, it is not easy to state the stage of a soul's prayer and spiritual progress especially since we do not find in the Saint's writings a step-by-step description of her stages of prayer. We can guess that God lifted her to higher stages of prayer rather early in life.
St. Therese indicates by what she tells us about her prayer that from even before her entrance into Carmel and, surely during her first years there, she enjoyed what is called the Prayer of Simplicity, the prayer of Simple Regard, or rather the prayer of the awareness of the Presence of God. St. Therese simply spoke to God and lived in a state of prayer. She prayed with confidence and love. The prayer of St. Therese was a look of love, a gaze of adoration. Much of her prayer is of this nature. Later there will be what is called Ecstatic Prayer and then she will reach the heights of the Transforming Union. Yet even then her prayer has this characteristic of a conversation, of a gaze of love, of a child who allows its father to carry it.
Therefore, it seems that St. Therese lived constantly with an awareness of the Presence of God, not a "felt" awareness but rather one of faith and love. There is no indication in any of the Saint's writings that she read the treatise of Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, a French Carmelite who died in 1691 "Practice of The Presence of God" about the awareness of the Presence of God. It would seem, though, that, as a Carmelite, she would have read it. What is undeniable is that she lived this doctrine. Throughout her life St. Therese lived in a state of recollection. As the other French Carmelite nun, Blessed Elizabeth of the Blessed Trinity, lived adoring the Blessed Trinity within her, her "sister," St. Therese, lived with an awareness of being a child carried by God. Her heart and mind were constantly turned to God. This explains her statement that she had never gone three minutes without thinking of God. One of the other nuns once told the Saint that she was, as it were, "possessed" by God.

The Dark Night of the Soul

When her Dark Night of the Soul began St. Therese simply advanced along her spiritual journey. In darkness she continued to believe, pray, hope and live, aware of God. When God seemed to be hidden from her she never prayed less, she prayed even more. She preferred the darkness of faith, offering what she suffered so others could be given light. The Saint wrote that the clouds might cover the sun, yet not only does she not doubt the sun's existence, she continues to look, with a simple gaze of love, in the direction of the sun. She explains this to her sister Marie in a way that shows once again her great literary ability. St. Therese considers herself a "little bird" that has learned to look at the Sun (God) like the Eagles (the saints). She says she remains keeping her eyes fixed looking at the Sun, "deterred by no obstacle, storm and rain cloud-wrack may conceal its heavenly radiance, but I don't shift my view—I know that it is there all the time behind the clouds, its brightness never dimmed. Sometimes, to be sure, the storm thunders at my heart; I find it difficult to believe in the existence of anything except the clouds, which limit my horizon. It's only then that I realize the possibilities of my weakness; find consolation in staying at my post and directing my gaze toward one invisible light which communicates itself, now only to the eye of faith." The Saint understood her experience very well to be able to explain it so well. The above quotation from her letter to her sister Marie, which forms part of her autobiography, teaches that the "way of prayer" of St. Therese was essentially a gaze of love.
St. Therese, like a little child, spoke to God, listened to God, simply enjoyed being in the Presence of God and with love, gazed at God. This way of prayer developed until she reached the height of the Transforming Union. Yet before reaching this height the Saint was to enter the Dark Night, the Night of Faith. Here we are considering what the theologians call, "The Dark Night of The Soul." It seems to occur when the person leaves what is called the "Illuminative Way" and is about to enter the "Unitive Way." This Unitive Way is a name theologians give to the heights of holiness where the person is totally united to God. We know that the Saint said that this trial began just when she could suffer it. Sooner and she would, she said, not have been able to suffer this great trial. Her trial of faith, or Dark Night of the Soul seems to have begun instantly and the Saint was sure, right away, that it would last a long time. What was this darkness like? She told the prioress, Mother Marie de Gonzague, that if she wished to understand her trial she must imagine that she (St. Therese) had been born in a country covered with a very thick mist; had never seen nature in her "smiling mood," but had heard of all these experiences ever since childhood and knew that the country in which she lived is not her native country. Yet her country cannot be seen. There is complete darkness. To understand how painful this trial was to St. Therese we must remember how much Heaven meant to her and how, before the Dark Night, she could easily think about Heaven. The darkness was all around her, complete, as she said, yet she tells us there was no darkness in her devotion to Our Blessed Mother.
In this trial St. Therese continued to be faithful and continued to believe. She tells us that she made more acts of faith during this time than during her whole life. She even wrote beautiful poems about Heaven, of what she "willed" to believe. She even said that her soul was blindfolded. There were rays of light, yet afterwards the darkness was blacker than ever, especially during her last illness. The darkness took on the voice of "the unbeliever" to disturb her, telling her that the "land of Light she believed in didn't exist and that death would bring a greater darkness. The devil also tried to disturb her. She asked for a blessed candle and holy water.
What was the purpose of this trial? It seems to have been twofold; first, to perfect the Saint and secondly, for an apostolic purpose—that by the blackness she suffered, unbelievers would receive light. The Saint was quite conscious of both aspects. Of the first she said that her desire for Heaven was being perfected, that all that was "natural" in it was being removed. She also understood that this trial had an apostolic value—to give light to others. She offered her trial for this intention. She continued heroically to pray and faithfully live the Carmelite life during this trial, which was to last until her last agony. She made acts of faith, prayed, showed great charity to others, great patience in her illness and even continued to find ways to practice mortification. She thought of others and not of herself. She continued her prayers and penances for missionaries. During this time the Saint did not pray less, she prayed more. She never omitted the two hours of mental prayer the nuns did each day, the praying of the Liturgy of the Hours and she continued her fervent prayers throughout the day. When prayer was especially difficult she would recite one "Our Father" or a "Hail Mary" for she said the prayers ravish her, they nourished her soul with a divine food. In the dryness of the desert, St. Therese continued to pray.

St. Therese's Last Illness

During the night of Good Friday, 1897, St. Therese received the first warning of her last illness. As she laid down on her cot blood rushed to her mouth. The next morning she looked at her handkerchief and saw that it was filled with blood. In May she was freed from all her duties. in July she was taken to the infirmary. In August she received Holy Viaticum. Through September she suffered greatly until on the 30th of September she died. During these months she suffered terribly from consumption, suffocation and, perhaps especially, from the treatment of cauterization. During this illness she suffered from privation regarding the reception of Holy Communion. She also suffered greatly from her trial of faith. Yet through these months with her heroic abandonment to the Will of God St. Therese continued to progress in the way of perfection and the way of prayer.
During these months of illness St. Therese not only prayed, she asked her sisters to pray for her. She asked that they pray not for healing but for strength to suffer. St. Bernadette had made this same request. St. Therese even prayed that the good of her medicines, which she took in obedience, would be applied not to her but to missionaries. The Saint continued to pray for others. When her sisters were working in the laundry, in the heat of the summer, she prayed that God would console them and that they would work in love and peace.
One can learn a great deal about prayer from the example of the prayer of St. Therese during her last illness. Important statements about prayer made by St. Therese during her last illness are found in a notebook kept by Celine who wrote; "I arose several times during the night in spite of her objections. On one of these visits I saw my dear little sister with hands joined and eyes raised to Heaven 'What are you doing? You should be sleeping.' I said. She answered by saying, "I can't sleep, I'm suffering too much so I'm praying.' Then I asked what do you say to Jesus?' She answered, 'I say nothing, I love Him."' Here we can see that the loving gaze of St. Therese has simplified even further. In the development of her prayer life we see that the gaze of love has simply become love. It is no longer looking with love. It is simply to love. Here we see the perfection of the mystical life and the spiritual life; the perfection of charity. Now for St. Therese it is no longer a question of "praying." It is a question of love. Now the soul of St. Therese is transformed completely into an act of love. Word's aren't necessary anymore, just love. Love will speak, love will pray.
During last agony, on September 30, suffering greatly and still in the Dark Night of the Soul, the Saint uttered many fervent prayers of love. She prayed much to Our Blessed Mother. In the afternoon her sisters were moving her slightly, her arms were outstretched like a cross. The clock struck; it was three o'clock. At six o'clock the Angelus rang. St. Therese looked at the statue of Our Lady. Celine put some ice on her lips and St. Therese gave her a very special look, a look that said to Celine, "Go, I will be with you." Then a few minutes past seven St. Therese asked the Mother Prioress if she was experiencing the last agony. When told yes but that it may continue for a few more hours she answered, "Well. all right, all right. Oh, I wouldn't want to suffer for a shorter time!" Looking at her crucifix, she said, "Oh, I love Him. My God, I love You!"16 With this last prayer of love uttered still in the Dark Night of the Soul St. Therese spoke her last words, her last act of love. Then for a moment or two, the space of a Credo, her sisters saw that St. Therese was no longer aware of them. She was in ecstasy. In this ecstasy she died. Yet it was when she was still in the Dark Night that she uttered her last prayer of love, "My God, I love You."

St. Therese's Act of Oblation to the Merciful Love of God

One of the most significant aspects of the prayer of St. Therese is her "Act of Oblation to The Merciful Love of God." From the beginning it is best to understand that the offering St. Therese made on the Feast of The Most Blessed Trinity was an offering to accept the Merciful Love of God—it was not an offering to suffer. The "Little Flower" surely was a real victim soul, a soul dedicated to suffering in reparation for sin and for the salvation of souls. Yet this is not what she is expressing in her "Oblation."
During the Mass of the Feast of the Most Blessed Trinity, St. Therese realized how much Our Savior; Jesus Christ wishes to bestow His love on souls and that there were very few to accept this love. After receiving permission from the Prioress; St. Therese and her sister Celine; kneeling before the statue of Virgin of the Smile and recited their offering. St. Therese wrote down the prayer and kept it in her book of the Gospels. Her offering begins with an act of love to the Most Blessed Trinity and her desire to save souls, to deliver souls from Purgatory and to work for the glorification of the Church. She then expresses her desire to fulfill God's Will perfectly and reach the exact degree of glory God has willed for her.
St. Therese expresses her desire to be a saint. Since she believes that she is not able to be a saint on her own she asks for God's holiness. She then recalls that the Infinite Merits of Jesus are hers and she asks God to look at her through the eyes of Jesus, to look at her in the Sacred Heart of Jesus. She then offers the merits of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of the saints and holy angels to God. She asks Our Lady to present her oblation to God. She expresses her desires with confidence. She asks that God take possession of her soul. She notes that she cannot receive Holy Communion as often as she would like so she asks that the Blessed Sacrament remain in her heart as in a tabernacle, between each of her receptions of Holy Communion.
St. Therese then expresses her desire to console God by reparation because so few are grateful. She prays that God will take away her freedom, which may cause her to displease Him. She adds that if she falls through weakness she asks God to heal and cure her of this fault instantly by His loving gaze. She then thanks God for all the graces she has received. She is especially thankful for having passed through the "crucible of suffering." She then states that "It is with joy that I shall look upon You on the last day, bearing the scepter of the Cross, since You have deigned to give me that most precious Cross as my portion. I hope to be like You in Heaven and see the Sacred Stigmata of Your Passion in my body."
St. Therese expresses her hope for Heaven yet professes that she is not working for merit but solely for love of God. Solely, she says to console "Your Sacred Heart and to save souls which will love You everlastingly." She says that, at the end of her life, she will appear without any merits; she, therefore, desires to be given God’s own justice and she trusts that in a single instant God can transform and perfect her soul. Now she expresses the actual offering. "To live in an act of perfect Love, I offer myself as a burnt offering to Your Merciful Love, calling you to consume me at every instant, while You let the floods of infinite tenderness within You flow into my soul, that so I may become a martyr to Your Love, O My God!...When that martyrdom has prepared me to appear before You, may it cause me to die and my soul hurl itself in that one instant into the eternal embrace of Your Merciful Love. At every heartbeat, O my Beloved, I wish to renew this offering an infinite number of times till the shadows retire and I can tell You of my love over and over again, looking upon Your face to face eternally."
Truly this offering is essentially an act of love by one who realized her vocation is love. It is interesting to note that the last words of this offering tell us a great deal about prayer, for eternity she wishes to tell God of her love.

Graces of Prayer

That St. Therese's spiritual life was without extraordinary phenomena compared to other saints has been stated by authors quite often. This basically is correct if we understand that what is meant is that "compared to other saints" she did not experience many of the mystical phenomena they experienced and that St. Therese's way of spirituality is a way that does not exclude, yet does not "require," extraordinary graces. Yet, it must also be remembered that there were some extraordinary graces in her life.
The first extraordinary grace in the life of St. Therese was the vision she had as a child of her father's future illness when she saw a man in their yard, with his face covered, who then disappeared. And she was miraculously cured when she saw Our Lady smile. During prayer St. Therese received other special graces. Even before she entered Carmel she experienced, she tells us, while she prayed on summer evenings, the flights of the spirit described by St. Teresa of Avila. This, of course, is a very extraordinary grace.
As a Carmelite she received similar graces. In 1889, while praying in the grotto of St. Mary Magdalene, she was blessed with a state of what is called "Quietude" which lasted for a week. She described this by saying that something like a veil had been put over earthly things. She knew it was a supernatural state and found it difficult to describe. In keeping with Carmelite tradition the Saint refers to this grace as "mystical," that is, caused by the Holy Spirit and not by her own doing. She understood that the purpose of this grace was to make her more detached.
On the Friday after her Act of Oblation, St Therese received a very extraordinary grace, the "wound of love." She was praying the Stations of the Cross when she felt pierced as it were by a dart of fire. This experience was so ardent that she thought she would die. She couldn't explain it. She felt plunged in fire, a fire full of sweetness. This lasted only a moment. Then she returned to her state of aridity. St. John of the Cross-in "The Living Flame of Love" teaches that not many souls are granted this favor. God gives it mainly to those who have followers. To these followers they transmit their virtue and spirit. Surely St. Therese was to have many followers of her Little Way!
Another grace of prayer St. Therese received was that, very often, she would receive inspirations or, as she called them: "lights." These lights were about understanding Sacred Scripture or the spiritual life. She said also that God inspired her, with what to say and do; she received these lights just when she needed them. They were especially helpful in instructing the novices. During the last months of her life these lights, which inspired her, were even prophetic. During this time she made many prophetic statements regarding her mission, her autobiography, the shower of roses and that she would be a saint!

St. Therese's Devotion to The Most Blessed Virgin Mary

Since St. Therese was a member of the order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel I'll begin considering her devotions by discussing her Marian devotion. St. Therese was, throughout her entire life, a child of Mary. Let us consider now the special character of St. Therese's devotion to Our Blessed Mother. St. Therese was especially devoted to Our Lady as the Mother of Jesus during His hidden years at Nazareth. She liked to contemplate the simplicity, poverty and prayerfulness of the Holy Family. In this the Saint was completely faithful to the Carmelite tradition. For the town of Nazareth is not far from the mountain of Carmel and the Carmelite life is a hidden life of prayer and work.
As a very small child St. Therese had great devotion to Our Lady. In the first essay she ever wrote she told of the Blessed Virgin Mary going to the temple as a child that she was remarkable among her companions for her piety and for her angelic sweetness. She related how everyone loved the child Mary, especially the angels, who regarded her as their little sister. St. Therese explained that she herself wanted to be a very good girl, that Our Lady was her dear Mother and that children usually resemble their mother.
After Pauline entered Carmel little Therese became very ill. She was delirious and suffering from hallucinations. One day during a severe crisis Marie knelt in prayer before a statue of Our Lady in Therese's sick room. Leonie and Celine joined in prayer Therese too, understandingly, turned toward the statue. She prayed with all her heart to her Mother in heaven, that she would have pity on her. All at once, Therese tells us, she saw the Virgin Mary smile upon her. She was instantly cured. The statue, from then on, became known as the Virgin of the Smile. St. Therese was to have this statue with her in the Carmel. Today it is above her remains in her shrine in the Carmelite chapel in Lisieux.
As mentioned earlier, on the day of St. Therese's First Holy Communion she was pleased to be chosen to recite the Act of Consecration to Our Lady. "That afternoon, it was I who recited the act of consecration to Our Lady; it was fitting that I, who had lost my earthly mother so young, should talk to my heavenly Mother in the name of the rest. And that is what I tried to do, talk to her; give myself up to her, like a child throwing its arms round its mother and asking for her protection I think she smiled down at me from Heaven, unseen; hadn't she smiled down visibly at me, and given life to the little flower that seemed to be fading away? And now she had brought her own Son to birth in me."
St. Therese also sought entrance into the Sodality of the Children of Mary. "The Blessed Virgin, too, kept good watch over the little flower that was dedicated to her; she didn’t want to see it tarnished with the stains of earth, so she took care to plant it high up, in her own mountain air, before it faded. That happy moment hadn't yet arrived, but already my love for my heavenly Mother was growing all the time; and I now went out of my way to prove...Soon after my first Communion I took a further step, and a new ribbon announced that I had become an 'aspirant' to fuller dedication as a Child of Mary; only I had to leave school before I actually joined the association And now, as I hadn't finished my schooling at the Abbey, I found I wasn't allowed to enter it on the strength of being an 'old girl.' That wouldn't have worried me much, only all my sisters had belonged, and I wanted to have the same right to call myself Our Lady's child as they had. So I pocketed my pride, and asked if I might join the Association at the Abbey. The headmistress didn't like to say no, but she made the condition that I must come round two afternoons in the week, so that they could judge whether I was worthy to be admitted...Well, if I went to the Abbey, it was only for Our Lady's sake. Sometimes I felt very lonely."
After her pilgrimage to Paris and Rome her fondest memories were the visit to Our Lady of Victories in Paris and to the home of the Holy Family, the Holy House of Loreto. "There was only one of them [the sights of Paris] that really took me out of myself and that was Notre Dame des Victorires. I can't describe what I felt, kneeling in front of the statue; I was so full of gratitude that it could only find its outlet (just as on my First Communion day) in tears. Our Lady gave me the assurance that she really had smiled at me, really had effected my cure; I knew that she really was watching over me, that I was her child—I began calling her 'Mamma,' because 'Mother' didn't seem intimate enough. Oh, I prayed so hard that she would go on looking after me and would make my dream come true before long by taking me under the protection of her stainless robe. I'd wanted that, from my earliest years and as I grew up I'd come to realize that, for me, Carmel was the only place where that shelter could be found."
After entering the Carmelites St. Therese's devotion to Our Lady increased. The day the Church celebrates Our Lady's Nativity, September 8, was chosen for the Saint's profession. She was very pleased about this choice. She prayed that Our Lady would instruct her in the way of perfection. She prayed especially for inspiration in guiding the novices. St. Therese placed the statue of the Virgin of The Smile next to her cell, in a small oratory. Often she brought her novices there to counsel them, in the presence of Our Lady. St. Therese encouraged her missionary "brothers" (the two priests in the foreign missions whom she prayed for and encouraged with letters) to entrust their apostolate to Our Lady. Before beginning a task St. Therese would pray to Our Blessed Mother. She prayed before writing her autobiography that it would be written according to the wishes of Our Lady.
St. Therese said that to pray to the Mother of God is very special. She explained this by saying that when we pray to the saints they make us wait awhile, they have to go and present their requests to God. Yet when we pray for something, asking Our Lady to intercede for us—we do not have to wait. The Saint added that in her troubles and anxieties she quickly turned to the Virgin Mary—and she always helped her.
During her last illness St. Therese's devotion to Our Lady was especially fervent. She said she knew how greatly the Virgin Mary had suffered. She asked Our Blessed Mother how to benefit from her sufferings. One day she told a novice that she liked to hide her pains from God to give Him the impression that she was always glad. But hid nothing from Our Lady; to her, she told everything. When she was suffering from her trial of faith St. Therese prayed to Our Blessed Mother. Regarding her last illness St. Therese prayed to Our Lady that little Therese would not be a burden to her sisters. One day Mother Agnes of Jesus (her sister Pauline) said death was distressing to those who had to look upon it. St. Therese spoke of Our Lady. She referred to how the Blessed Virgin held Jesus, after he died, in her arms. He was covered with so many wounds. St. Therese marveled that Our Lady could endure such suffering.
When St. Therese's suffering was very acute she turned to the statue of the Virgin of The Smile and prayed. She once said she could not pray but could only look at the Blessed Virgin Mary and say, "Jesus." Here we can see the spirituality of St. Therese. She looks at the statue of Our Blessed Mother and says the Holy Name of Jesus. In remembering Our Lady she does not forget Jesus and in remembering Jesus she does not forget Our Lady. For St. Therese it is simply Jesus and Mary.
One day she told her sister Pauline that she had prayed much to the Blessed Virgin during the night, thinking that Our Lady’s wonderful month of May was about to begin. During her last illness St. Therese turned to Our Lady. In the book known as the "Last Conversations" we read many Marian statements that the Saint made during these days of suffering. Several are quoted here. "I asked the Blessed Virgin that I be not so tired and withdrawn as I have been all these days; I really felt that I was causing you pain. This evening she answered me."
"I would, however, like to have a beautiful death to please you. I asked this from the Blessed Virgin. I didn't ask God for this because I want Him to do as He pleases. Asking the Blessed Virgin for something is not the same thing as asking God. She really knows what is to be done about my little desires, whether or not she must speak about them to God. So it's up to her to see that God is not forced to answer me, to allow Him to do everything He pleases." And, "However, I do want to go! I've told the Blessed Virgin so and she can do what she pleases with my little wish."
St. Therese believed that Our Lady who didn't have a Blessed Virgin Mary to love is therefore less happy than we are. One day St. Therese said, regarding having entrusted some intentions to Our Lady, "The Blessed Virgin really carried out my messages well; I'll give her some once more!" And another time she said, "When I think of how much trouble I've had all my life trying to recite the Rosary!" St. Therese asked Celine, her infirmarian, to pray much for her to Our Lady. St. Therese, who tried to offer everything she did in a spiritual way told Pauline, "Sometimes I wanted to have a real dinner and I took a grape, then a mouthful of wine [She could consume very little nourishment during her last illness] and these I offered to the Blessed Virgin. Then I did the same thing for the Child Jesus and my little dinner was finished."
Pauline recalls, "she was showing me the picture of Our Lady of Victories, to which she had pasted the little flower Papa had given her on the day she had confided her vocation to him; the root was detached from it and the Infant Jesus seemed to be holding it, while He and the Blessed Virgin smiled at her: [the Saint said] 'The little flower has lost its root; this will tell you I'm on my way to Heaven." Pauline tells us 'after gazing a long time on the statue of the Blessed Virgin [St. Therese said] 'who could ever invent the Blessed Virgin?’" Also from Pauline we learn of the following. One day, "when the Angelus was ringing [the Saint asked]: 'Must I extend my little hands?' I answered: 'No, you're even too weak to recite the Angelus. Call upon the Blessed Virgin by simply saying: 'Virgin Mary!' She said,. 'Virgin Mary, I love you with all my heart.’"
"I [Pauline] was telling her she suffered less during the silence [the Saint said,] 'Oh! just the opposite! I suffered very much, very much! But it's to the Blessed Virgin that I complained.’" St. Therese prayed, "O good Blessed Virgin, come to my aid!"40 In her time of her sickness and great suffering the Saint turned to her Mother. During her last agony St. Therese prayed to Our Lady and at six o'clock in the evening when she heard the bell for the Angelus looked toward the statue of the Virgin of the Smile. Some time before, in one of her poems, St. Therese had made the request that Our Blessed Mother would be with her at the eventide after her life and would once again smile at her.
It is therefore quite correct to say that St Therese's prayer was Marian, dedicated to the Mother of Jesus at Nazareth and Our Lady of Sorrows at Calvary. She also had a special devotion to The Virgin of the Smile. All through her life St. Therese remained a Child of Mary and prayed to Our Lady with childlike faith and confidence. The last words she ever wrote explained, in words written to Our Blessed Mother, that if she, Therese, were the Queen of Heaven and Our Lady was little Therese—she would want Mary to be the Queen of Heaven.

September 17, 2008

St. Albert of Jerusalem, Bishop & Lawgiver of Carmel

1149-1215 – Feast - September 17

Albert Avogadro was born in Parma, Italy, about 1149, probably to a noble family. He became a canon at the Holy Cross Abbey in Mortoba. In 1184 he was appointed as the bishop of Bobbio, Italy, and soon after he was named to the see of Vercelli. It was during this period of service as the bishop of Vereelli that he served as mediator between the pope and emperor.

In 1205, Albert was appointed the patriarch of Jerusalem, a post established in 1099 when Jerusalem became a Latin kingdom in the control of Christian crusaders. Jerusalem, however, was no longer in Christian hands, as the Saracens recaptured the city in 1187. The Christians needed a patriarch, but the position was open not only to persecution but to martyrdom at the hands of the Muslims. Albert accepted and he proved himself not only diplomatic but also winning in his ways.

The Muslims of the area respected him for his sanctity and his intelligence. Because of the Muslim presence in Jerusalem, Albert took up residence in Acre (now called Akko), a northern port. There he became involved in a concern that assured his place in religious history. Overlooking the city and bay of Acre is the holy mountain called Carmel. At the time, a group of holy hermits lived on Mount Carmel in separate caves and cells.

St. Brocard (who was the prior or superior of the group of hermits) approached Albert. In 1209, the hermits asked Albert to draw up a rule of life for them, a rule that would constitute the beginning of the Carmelite Order. Albert's rule regulating the monastic life of these men included severe fasts, a perpetual abstinence from meat, silence, and seclusions. Pope Innocent IV mitigated the rule in 1254, allowing that it was too rigorous. Albert mediated the dispute among various groups in Palestine and conducted Church affairs. He was called to the general council of the Lateran in 1215, but was assassinated before leaving Palestine. The Master of the Hospital of the Holy Spirit stabbed & murdered him in St. John of Acre, during the procession on the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, on September 14, 1214.

Let us begin with the reminder that this is Formation. We come here not just to learn a rule, but also to be formed by it. As we go through the Rule of St. Albert and parts of the journey our forerunners have taken, let us listen with our hearts. Carmel is not just Spirituality or a place where we enjoy being, a place where we find peace; it is a way of life. Carmel is a vocation. That spark. And that desire to live our lives in a particular way. It is a call from God, a gift from Him. We must pay particular attention that we do not dilute it into something it is not. Just considering ourselves a part of them for one or two meetings a month does not form our communities. Our community becomes as much a part of our lives as our immediate family. The concerns of the community are our concerns, the burdens of the community are our burdens, the joys of the community are our joys, and the growth of the community is directly related to our own growth. Our vocation calls us to Union with God, which can only be attained through His grace and growth in the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. The greatest act of community love was and is mutual correction.

If the main reason we come to community is to be fed, either spiritually or emotionally, to become a mutual admiration society, or to round out our social life, then we have lost the fruits of our vocation. The call to Carmel is a call to be everything we can be, a man or woman fully human, fully alive, and living in the spirit of truth, not for our own reward or satisfaction, but for the greater glory of God and His church, to unite all our thoughts, words, and actions to His very presence. Our Rule is built on the rock of sound doctrine.

Carmel did not begin with the Rule of St. Albert, but hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years before. The Carmelite Order derives its name from the holy mountain of its beginning. In the eastern land where every mountain has its own memories, Mount Carmel has some of the most holy. Carmel is a name that is familiar in every part of the Catholic world; and its natural beauty seems to be exactly in keeping with its gracious association.

The rule of life given to the Carmelites by St. Albert Avogadro between the years 1206 - 1214, was finally approved as the true and proper Rule of Carmel by Innocenzo in 1247 and later underwent mitigations, which were not in the original text.

The Carmelite Rule states that which is basic for a Carmelite to "live a life in allegiance to Jesus Christ - how, pure in heart and stout in conscience, he must be unswerving in the service of the Master". To live a life of allegiance to Jesus Christ, the Carmelites bind themselves especially to:

• Develop the contemplative dimension of their life, in an open dialogue with God
• Live as brothers & sisters, full of charity
• Meditate day and night on the Word of the Lord
• Pray together or alone several times a day
• Celebrate the Eucharist every day
• Do manual work, as Paul the Apostle did
• Purify themselves of every trace of evil
• Live in poverty, placing in common what little they may have
• Love the Church and all people
• Conform their will to that of God, seeking the will of God in faith, in dialogue and through discernment.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
St. Albert was Patriarch of Jerusalem and patron of the Carmelite Order. He was an outstanding ecclesiastical figure in the era in which the Holy See faced opposition from Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa. Serving as a mediator in the dispute between the emperor and Pope Clement III, Albert was made an imperial prince, a sign of favor from Barbarossa.

September 12, 2008

Blessed Mary of Jesus

1560-1640 – Memorial - September 12

Mary Lopez Rivas was born in Spain on August l8, 1560. Her father died when she was very young, and so her paternal grandparents raised her. A Jesuit who encouraged her to enter Carmel looked after her spiritual life. Holy Mother Teresa herself received her for the Toledo monastery. She had very frail health, but non the less when Teresa sent her to them, she wrote, "I send her with a dowry of 5000 escudos but I myself would give as much again to have her here with me." "Let her not be considered as one of the others because I hope in God she will be a prodigy.

Later on, because of her ill health, the Toledo community was considering dismissing her, but ST Teresa wrote to them, "think well of what you are doing, because if you do not admit her to profession, I shall have her come to Avila and admit her for the Monastery here. That we will have her will be the most fortunate of all of us. On my part, I would rather her with me always, in my monasteries, even if she had to stay in bed all her life. Notwithstanding her ill health, Mary of Jesus loved Carmel and lived a long time. She always remained precious to Mother Teresa, and Holy Mother showed great signs of special love and maternal care for her.

Mary of Jesus was several times, sacristan, Novice mistress and Prioress. St. Teresa often went to her for council and light and at one time exclaimed to her, “it must be all as you say, for you are my "little theologian".... and history has made *that*, which she is called. She had a deep and rich interior life of communication with Jesus and was sent to found the monastery in Cuerva served as mistress of novices for 6 months and returned to Toledo.

Accused falsely by those who were jealous of her great interior holiness and genuine serenity and love, lies were told to the Provincial and then the General and were temporarily believed, and she was removed from office. Through all this she remained peaceful and respectful of authority. Hers was a unique physical illness and yet her body lies incorrupt to this day in Toledo Carmel.

She was the recipient of great graces and responded wholeheartedly and unreservedly to them. She was devoted to the Sacred Heart in the Blessed Sacrament and also had a special devotion to the Holy Child. Our Lord gave her his crown of thorns to wear and later she manifested the signs of the stigmata.

She moved into the larger life on September 13, 1640.

September 1, 2008

St. Teresa Margaret Redi of the Sacred Heart, virgin

1747-1770 – Memorial - September 1st

She died on March 7, 1770 at the age of 22, and of this short lifespan, she spent five years in the Carmelite monastery in Florence. She performed no brilliant, attention-getting deeds, nor did her reputation reach the wider world. She was like a lily that, in a quiet vale protected from storms, rises slim and straight and, in the warm light of the sun, unfolds into a wondrous bloom. Her powerful and sweet fragrance charmed everyone who lived around her. Even after her death it did not evaporate, but spread wider and wider, and now it is to fill the entire church of God.
     (On March 19, 1934, Pope Pius XI entered Blessed Teresa Margaret of the Sacred Heart in the register of saints. In Germany, the new saint is virtually unknown outside of our Order. Her life was quiet and hidden.)
1. Childhood

Teresa Margaret is often compared with St. Aloysius. Like him, she not only died early, but also shared with him angelic purity and severe penance. Her home was Arezzo in Tuscany. Her parents, Ignatius Redi and Camilla Balleti, came from noble families. She was born on July 15, 1747, the eve of the feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel. She was baptized as Anna Maria. From early childhood on, she showed an unusual desire to hear people speak of God. When anyone talked of heavenly things in her presence, she fixed her eyes on the person's lips with such rapt attention that it had to amaze and move those present. When her confessor later asked her whether, from the moment she had gotten to know God she had also begun to love him, she replied, "But everyone does that, and how could anyone not do so?" This is how self-evident it was to her that one merely needed to know God in order to love him. Another time she said, "Jesus knows that from childhood on I never had any other wish than to please him and to become holy."

People often observed her even as a six-year-old gazing fixedly up to heaven for a long time as though in deep meditation. From her seventh year on she understood how to "find God in all things," in stars and flowers, in short, to read in all creatures a challenge to praise the Creator. When she was nine, her devout parents sent her to the Benedictine nuns at the monastery of St. Apollonia in Florence for her education. She at once won the hearts of those in authority as well as her contemporaries by her exemplary zeal and obedience, by her natural lovableness, cheerfulness, and readiness to serve. With childish naïveté, she quite unconsciously expressed her continual union with God. "While we are enjoying ourselves, Jesus is thinking of us," she called to her playmates in the middle of recess. So it is understandable that people took unusual advantage of her reliability and would often entrust her with watching her companions, without this evoking any dissension.

When she saw the older pupils go to the communion rail, her behavior showed such a deep desire to be united with the Lord that she was given permission to receive her first Holy Communion at ten years of age early for that time. She herself had not asked for it, for she was not in the habit of expressing wishes. Nor did she say anything about the result. But her increased faithfulness, her anxious avoidance of any shadow of sin that often gave her sleepless nights for a presumed fault, bore persuasive witness.

Her rich interior life required discerning direction for her soul. Because she did not want to attract attention at the boarding school by staying in the confessional too long, she got the idea of confiding in her own father. In detailed letters she gave him an account of her spiritual life. She also asked him to destroy the letters at once. Since he did this conscientiously, none of this evidence has come down to us except for the testimony of her father that they were full of the most exalted love of God and the most sensitive Christian perfection.

Probably at the suggestion of her father she also later consulted the confessor at the boarding school, Monsignor Pellegrini, and received from him direction in prayer and the regulation of her penances, which she had already begun in her family home at an interior motivation.

A particular characteristic of her piety was her love of the Mother of God, which she harbored from early childhood on. At the boarding school she once slipped on the steps while she was carrying a warming basin filled with glowing coals. She cried aloud to the Virgin Mary, whose picture hung near the foot of the stairs, and landed at the bottom completely unharmed; the coals had not even damaged her clothing.

Her constant spiritual recollection was evidenced by the calm, placid evenness of her disposition in spite of her being naturally high-spirited. And the fruit of her love for God was an untiring, loving readiness to serve everyone, not just the nuns and fellow boarders, but also the servants, from whom she liked to take over the heaviest tasks inconspicuously and as though for her own delight.
2. Religious Vocation

Anna Maria considered herself lucky to be living under the same roof with the Lord. With holy joy she participated in the monastery's routines. So it was only natural that the desire to spend her whole life in the house of the Lord should awaken in her. However, she still had no clarity about what order to choose. It was revealed to her in a singular way. She was 16 years old when one day in September of 1763 she was called into the speak room with the nuns. It was a farewell visit of a childhood friend from her hometown who was about to enter the Carmelite monastery of St. Teresa in Florence. On the way back inside the monastery, Anna Maria felt strangely uplifted and happy, and suddenly she heard a voice that spoke to her: "I am Teresa, and I want you to be one of my daughters." In doubt as to whether she should receive these words as divinely inspired, she rushed to the chapel to ask for complete clarity before the altar. Here that voice spoke for the second time and more clearly than before: "I am Teresa of Jesus, and I say to you that you will soon find yourself in my monastery."

Now complete calm settled over the soul of the young girl, and she decided to consecrate herself to God in Carmel. For the time being, she spoke with no one about this. And when shortly thereafter her father took her back to her family home, she kept her secret for several more months. She used this time to explore whether she would be equal to the strict lifestyle in Carmel. Without in the least neglecting her duties to her family, she remained in her room as much as possible to immerse herself in prayer and to read spiritual books. As much as consideration of her surroundings permitted, she practiced silence. She allowed no one to wait on her; in fact, where she could, she sought to do some of the servants' work. She let others choose her clothing without bringing up her own taste and, when possible, avoided changing her clothes during the day. She knew how to exercise secret mortifications during meals and to give to the poor some of what she denied herself. Indeed, she did not shrink from inflicting severe penances on her sensitive body.

After testing herself in this way for several months, it seemed to her time to take the steps necessary to carry out her decision. The first person in whom she confided was the Jesuit priest Jerome Maria Cioni. He advised her to discuss it with her mother. She chose her seventeenth birthday for this. Without her knowledge, her mother told her father. In spite of their piety, both parents were painfully disconcerted. However, it did not occur to them to refuse their consent outright. The only thing Count Redi deemed necessary was a thorough examination by experienced men of the spirit. Since everyone whose advice they sought definitely said that her vocation was genuine, Anna Maria received permission to write a letter to the mother superior of the Monastery of St. Teresa requesting admittance to the Order.

Objections rose by companions in her household and relatives could not dissuade the young candidate for the religious life in the least. Almost without meaning to, her father put her through a more difficult test. He and his favorite child had a habit of staying up together in the evenings to share their views on spiritual questions after the rest of the family had gone to bed. These hours gave both of them the greatest joy. One evening they were again sitting together. So far Count Redi had avoided discussing Anna Maria's plan with her. She did not even know that he was aware of it. On this evening he was suddenly overpowered by grief. He burst into tears and asked, "Do you really intend to leave me, my dear daughter?" Anna Maria loved her father tenderly. Not only was she bound to him by a child's natural attachments, but, simultaneously, by a supernatural love for her spiritual director and confidant. Therefore, this surprising outburst must have touched her deeply. Count Redi himself described her behavior at that moment: "At this shock, probably the strongest possible to inflict on her sensitive heart under these circumstances, she remained standing motionless before me for a time as though animated by a higher spirit. Then she retreated to her room without saying a word."

When the answer from Florence came assuring Anna Maria's acceptance as a postulant, her father decided to take her to the monastery himself. Beforehand, at her mother's suggestion, one more special pleasure was afforded her: a pilgrimage to the nearby Mount Alvernia, to the holy place where St. Francis received the stigmata.

One day during the second half of August in the year 1764 Anna Maria left her home forever. Her mother was sick in bed. The departing daughter knelt before her to ask for her farewell blessing. Countess Redi could not say a single word; tears were all she had in reply. Anna Maria again remained very quiet and completely controlled her pain. After a few consoling words to his wife, Count Redi led her to the carriage. "After we had taken our places in it," he later said during the process, "without letting her know that I was observing her, I saw my daughter serious, motionless, and silent for a solid hour. Then her cheerful disposition returned, and she engaged me in merry and spirited conversation, continuing the journey in the most complete composure."

In Florence Anna Maria once more visited the nuns at St. Apollonia's, who had raised her, to say good-bye to them and to her two younger sisters who were now pupils there. Then she stepped over the threshold of the Monastery of St. Teresa, which was now to become her home.
3. Life in the Order

The young sister used to call the convent that had admitted her the "house of angels." She considered all of her fellow sisters as angels. In her letter requesting admittance, she had said that her goal was to "compete with them in the holy love of God." She deemed belonging to this community an entirely undeserved grace and was continually grateful to the nuns. She was always convinced that she lived among them as someone entirely undeserving. With complete sincerity, she once said to her confessor, "Believe me, my Father, these nuns are saints and real angels. I tremble when I think of how different I am from them and how far from their example. Believe me, I am really unworthy to lay myself under their feet and to serve as a floor for them. By constantly giving them annoyance, all I am good for is to enable them to practice the virtue of patience continually. I do not know how they begin to tolerate me." At the same time, her behavior from the day of her entrance resembled that of a tried religious; so, from that point of view there was never any doubt about her final acceptance after the probationary period.

But as the months of testing neared their end, another circumstance put the happy outcome in question: a virulent swelling above her right knee that would not go away for a long time. At first she tried to hide the trouble and knelt on the floor as always without support. But when she became feverish, the illness could no longer remain a secret. What gave her even more distress than the bodily pain; was having to expose the affected part to the attending physician. She accepted the painful operation patiently in remembrance of the suffering Savior. Finally, the suffering abated and with it the impediment to her reception of the habit.

The sisters assembled in chapter to receive the postulant's request for acceptance. Fearful that she might be excluded because of her unworthiness, she knelt before the mother prioress and asked pardon for her failures, promising to do better. With great joy she heard the comforting assurance of the sisters who were completely convinced in their hearts of having obtained a consummate daughter of St. Teresa. But, in accord with the custom of that time, she had to wait two more months for the final vote and during this time even had to leave the enclosure. She spent the time in quiet withdrawal with Isabella Mozzi, a friend of her mother's in Florence.

March 11, 1765 was chosen for the clothing. On the eve, Anna Maria was permitted to return to the monastery. A large crowd of acquaintances and practically all the nobility of Florence were at the church where preparatory devotions were held to welcome her. They accompanied her to the door of the enclosure. Just as many participated at the clothing ceremony the following morning. At that time she received her religious name, Teresa Margaret Marianne of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

The novice mistress into whose hands the young nun was entrusted, Teresa Maria Guadagni, had set as her goal the formation of her charges on the model of the oldest father of our Order, the strict hermit of Mount Carmel. The more she considered the perfection of which the new novice was capable and to which she was called, the sharper the weapons she believed herself permitted to use to foster the practice and to gain proficiency in the basic virtues of a religious: humility, obedience, self-abnegation. She knew how to find faults and shortcomings in everything that Margaret did and would reprimand her sharply. And when the young sister acknowledged the correction by the customary prostration on the floor, the mistress was in no hurry at all to give her the signal to rise. But no one ever saw a hint of bitterness or sensitivity in Margaret. However, when she was finally allowed to rise, she did so with a friendly and cheerful expression and with the words, "God reward you for your good deed."

Before her profession of vows, she had an experience of suffering similar to that before her clothing. It was the same physical illness and, after this had been successfully healed, there was the fear that they would not allow her to make her profession because of her many faults and imperfections. She could hardly believe it when the acceptance was finally confirmed, and was full of gratitude for the undeserved grace. She zealously examined herself to see whether she had any attachment that might impede her complete union with the Lord. Her great love for her father was the only thing that still caused her doubt. So she decided to sacrifice the exchange of letters that she had been maintaining up to then. She informed him that from now on they would meet in the heart of Jesus and would see who could love God the most. When incidentally another sister asked her, right after a visit from her father, whether the farewell had not been difficult for her, she smiled and showed her a scrap of paper on which some words of St. Augustine were written: Minus te amat, qui tecum aliquid amat. "They love you too little who continue to love anything other than you."

An eyewitness recounts of her profession on March 12, 1766: "At the solemn moment of profession, she seemed to be transformed into a seraph, and so deep and powerful was the impression of love that her outward appearance made on the circle of sisters around her that they were too moved and amazed to be able to restrain their tears."

The foundation of her life in the Order was her deep and living faith. As during her childhood, so also later, she wanted to hear about God and to enrich her knowledge. Even more than by books and priestly instruction, this desire was satisfied by illumination from on high. Out of this living faith there arose a holy reverence for everything connected with things of faith: for priests, for the other sisters as brides of Christ, for all the altar vessels which she cared for as sacristan, for all the rites during worship. Above all, the fruit of this living faith was constant living in God's presence. Her confessor and spiritual director during her years in the Order, Fr. Ildefonse, said during the process that in his judgment "her prayer had reached the level of unity in faith where these kinds of souls seem unable to continue to live much longer naturally. So in accord with the usual way of God's providence, they tend to be called early into the better world, there to see and to enjoy unveiled the Source of all being and all reality, the highest Lord whom they so eagerly sought to know on this miserable earth."

Her favorite expression was "God is love." And to requite this divine love with love in return was self-evident to her even from childhood. The thought of what the Lord suffered for us aroused in her the burning desire "to suffer a little for him, too." Therefore, she found no trial too hard; she discovered ever-new sacrifices and penances. But she also knew that the Lord saw the proof of our love for him in the love we show to others. She found the occupation ideally suited for her love of neighbor in caring for the sick, when this responsibility was given to her after her profession. She was tireless in her care for those who were ill, and no impatience, no irritability nor any ingratitude of theirs could decrease her loving concern. Her strict superior, with whose care she was entrusted, knew how to try her most severely and had something to complain about in spite of all her eagerness. However, the caretaker always remained loving and patient. The ill mother prioress deliberately had to control herself so as not to express her wonder and gratitude for the tireless care. However, the only reason for this reticence was that she, too, considered it her duty to train her young daughter in humility and patience. In assuming the care of a mentally ill sister, the infirmarian took on a true martyrdom. But when they wanted to relieve her once more of this burden, she pleaded so hard to be allowed to continue to tend the patient that permission was granted her.

When the monastery was visited by an epidemic, her strength seemed to multiply. Indeed, it was apparent that supernatural gifts came to assist her in her duties. No matter how far away she was, she sensed when one of her patients needed her and was instantly at her side. A deaf elderly sister, with whom no one could communicate any longer, whom therefore even the confessor was no longer able to comfort, understood everything that Teresa Margaret said to her, even in a soft voice. So the infirmarian could care for her unhindered, and the patient also received from her the spiritual consolation for which she longed.

One day she found herself in the refectory with a sister who had been suffering from a severe toothache for a long time. Sr. Teresa Margaret saw that she was again in great pain. Full of sympathy, she arose, hurried over to the sufferer, and in complete contrast to her former reserve, which the Constitutions of the Order also required; she pressed a kiss on the painful spot. Then she returned to her place. At that moment the pain left and did not return.

4. Death and Glorification

In the midst of these self-sacrificing deeds of love, she herself was called away. On March 4, 1770 she asked her confessor to allow her to make a general confession and to permit her to receive communion the next morning as though it were her last. Obviously, she had a premonition of her sudden death that would make it impossible for her to receive Viaticum. On the eve of March 6 she stayed to care for the sick so long that she could no longer have supper with the community. Somewhat later she went to the refectory to have the small collation served in Lent. There she was suddenly seized by severe pain resembling colic. She wanted to go to her cell, but could only drag herself as far as a room near the refectory. Only after a while, when the pain had abated enough, was she able to reach her cell. There she collapsed and had to call for help.

She was put to bed never to leave it again. For the whole night and the following day she was in unspeakable pain, but not for a moment did she lose patience; and every effort made on her behalf seemed to her to be too much. She would not allow a sister to watch beside her at night. Only under obedience did she permit a maid to remain with her. And all she requested of her was that she remained quiet so as not to disturb anyone's nightly rest. In the morning her first concern was that the young woman should make up for the sleep she had missed. In the severest pain, she gave the sisters instructions for the care of her patients. When she could no longer speak from pain, she turned her eyes to the cross that she was holding in her hand and pressed her lips to the wounds of the Crucified.

At about three o'clock in the afternoon, about the hour when our Lord died, she lost movement and speech. The confessor who was called could do nothing more than administer Extreme Unction to her. Soon thereafter she passed away quietly and peacefully.

Because of the illness that had carried her off, shortly after her death the corpse was very disfigured, the face and neck were blue and the body very swollen. The nuns were almost hesitant to place her on view at the grate in the church, as was the custom. But even during the transfer, an amazing change began: The blue color changed to a delicate pallor, the face took on a rosy glow, the body turned slim and pliant. On March 9, the deceased seemed to be more beautiful and vibrant than when alive. Therefore, the Father Provincial permitted a postponement of the burial. Until March 22, that is, for fifteen days, the nuns kept their deceased sister in the church; not a trace of decomposition appeared. On that day the archbishop of Florence visited the corpse with many associates, including medical experts. Besides the miraculous preservation of the body, what attracted great crowds of the faithful as at the death of our Holy Mother Teresa was the unique fragrance which the corpse exuded. It spread to everything that came in contact with the deceased. Indeed, even the things that she had touched during life exuded it.

The holy body, which has remained incorrupt to this day, now rests in a glass shrine in the monastery church in Florence. Countless answers to prayers and cures of the sick led to the early initiation of the beatification process: so that her own father and confessor as well as a number of Carmelite nuns could make depositions.

In 1839, Pope Gregory XVI pronounced her virtues heroic. However, the beatification process was not concluded until the year 1929 under Pope Pius XI, and the jubilee of our salvation has now, on March 19, 1934, brought the canonization of the faithful follower of the Cross.

Copyright ICS Publications. Permission is hereby granted for any non-commercial use, if this copyright notice is included. Maintained by the Austrian Province of the Teresian Carmel
Saint Teresa Margaret Redi
Continues...

Lest anyone think that because Saint Teresa Margaret received the great grace of “Deus caritas est” – her spiritual life was easy, these few lines will show some of her struggle. These words come from the testimony of her last spiritual director Fr. Ildephonse.[1] The essence of her struggle is very understandable to us who have studied St. John of the Cross. She was standing in front of the most blinding light, thus she believed she was in utter darkness. She experienced what the love of God was, how love can/must be repaid by love, and how utterly helpless we are to love God as He deserves. The more she loved Him, (and her love was GREAT), the more she believed she did not love at all. Fr. Ildephonse believes that this struggle was the real cause of her death – her suffering was so great that living became impossible.

In the letter of December 19, 1768 the Saint is under attack: “I am telling you in strict confidence, sure of your discretion, that I find myself in pain because I am not doing anything to correspond to the demands of love. I feel that I am continually being reproached by my Sovereign Good and yet, I am very sensitive to the slightest movement contrary to the love and knowledge of Him. I do not see, I do not feel, I do not understand anything interiorly or exteriorly which could impel me to love. Everything is an obstacle and prevents me from throwing myself unreservedly into the arms of God, and I am so aware of this fact that I scarcely know how to occupy my mind - even the very things which could help me to love present obstacles to me and I strive hard to avoid these. I have no other remedy than to work in complete faith [2], but on account of my cold-heartedness this also is painful to me. However, thanks to a continual vigilance over the inferior faculties and over the suggestions of the common enemy (the devil) I think that these things are helping to make me a little less imperfect. For the rest, no one can imagine how terrible it is to live without any love when one is actually burning with the desire for it.” Page 56*.

“This is a torture to me, let alone the fact that it requires such an effort to apply myself to the things of God,” she confessed later. “I fear that God is very displeased with my Communions; it seems that I have no desire to ask His help because of the great coldness which I experience ... It is the same with prayer and, of course, in all the other spiritual exercises. I am continually making good resolutions but I never succeed in attaining some way of successfully overcoming these obstacles which stand in my way and prevent me from throwing myself at His feet.” Page 57*.

“I try as much as I can not to remain in my failings but to demand instant pardon from God, for I recall that it is time for me to give myself completely to Him ... I ask His pardon for being so distant from Him and I then renew my oblation ... I do all this rapidly and several times a day, but, in spite of it, I often allow myself to be overcome by the extreme coldness I feel. Then comes weakening and lack of confidence - I begin to feel that I shall never attain the heights towards which I tend because the battle within me is so great and I have so little courage in the face of battle ... I try to help myself by making as good a resolution as I can, especially when I feel the greatest repugnance; but in spite of all this, at the first ill wind I find myself thrown on the ground. When I have resolved to conquer my repugnancies manfully, the greatest occasions for practicing the newly made resolutions immediately present themselves - but I lose my courage and the enemy wins the day ... I cannot explain to you the paradoxes, which I feel exist within myself. Sometimes I feel the greatest repugnance for performing even the least act of virtue and I have to do myself the greatest violence in order to perform the act; at other times I want nothing else than to conform myself perfectly with the Heart of Jesus and then I force myself to practice those virtues which I know will make me especially beloved of that Heart. At these latter times I try to renew my resolution to suffer and to be silent, but I do not succeed very well and yet I feel something within me which helps me to remain faithful to God...” Page 57*.

“The tempest has become extremely violent and I feel myself being so knocked about that I scarcely know what to do if this continues. Everywhere there is darkness and danger. My soul is so dark that the very things which used to afford me some spiritual consolation are only a source of torture to me ... I must do violence to myself in order to perform each interior and exterior spiritual exercise ... Finding myself in this state of supreme weariness I commit many failings at each step ... My mind is in such turmoil that it is open to temptations of every sort, especially to those of despair ... I have a great fear of offending God grievously ... I see that I do wrong and at the same time try to follow the inspiration to do good and then I feel remorse for my infidelity; and to top it all, I am not succeeding in conquering myself because my repugnance is so great ...” Page 58*.

The good Father again mentions “the terrible agonies which she often spoke of to me, saying that she could no longer live without being able to love God as much as she desired, considering death a great consolation; she therefore asked my permission to ask for it without trying to lessen or escape her sufferings in this life.” She was, he says, “almost continually transformed by this love wherein, knowing most clearly the excellence and infinite merit of her Beloved, her love seemed to appear weaker and weaker in her eyes as it actually increased.” “The cruelest torturer of her soul,” he remarks, was her love, which, in the very same measure that it increased hid itself from the eyes of her spirit. She loved, yet believed she did not; in the measure love grew in her soul, in the same measure augmented the desire of loving and the pain of thinking that she did not love.” Page 61*.

The testimony of Father Ildephonse is particularly touching on this point: “She made God the most varied offerings in order that He finally make her worthy of loving. Among these different propositions is one which, as I know, became a daily and favorite one: it would not matter to her if she were condemned to hell for all eternity as long as the Lord would grant her the grace to love Him there as much as she wanted to, and then even more than that. I know this with certainty. She repeated this idea several times in my presence putting all her ardor into it; and oddly, she did it at the same time that she was accusing herself of lukewarmness in love. Prompted by the desire never to allow her to lose any of the beauty of her humility I told her that everyone ought to be moved by the same sentiments. Shrewdly I asked her of a sudden: ‘Now, supposing that (eternity in hell), what do you think will happen to us if we cannot see God for all eternity and have to suffer from all the horrible torments of the senses?’ Resolutely, without any reflection, she answered: ‘I think that love would make all things tolerable for us, perhaps even sweet, for love can compass everything...’” Page 62*.

Father Ildephonse reflecting on her death remarked “she could not have lived very much longer so great was the strength of the love of God in her.” Page 73*.
[1] All quotes are taken from God is Love (1964 edition) unless marked with an '*' in which case they are taken from From the Sacred Heart to the Trinity.

[2] Note that St. Teresa Margaret had never read St. John of the Cross, yet by holy instinct knew the answer to her struggle lay in naked, dark faith and nothing else.

August 26, 2008

Transverberation - St. Teresa of Jesus of Avila

Opt. Memorial - August 26  (Memorial for OCD Nuns)

In seeing the risen Christ, she experienced a mystical Transverberation, which she described as the piercing of her heart by an angel. She called this spiritual union with God, her "mystical marriage."

In 1559, P. Álvarez becomes her confessor. Near her fortieth year, God-states started to descend like a monsoon on the parched landscape of Teresa’s soul. It began with an ordinary day in which the unsuspecting nun was strolling to the oratory. A statue of Christ, known as the "Ecce Homo," which someone had placed in the corridor, caught her eye. The next thing she knew, Teresa was prostrate on the floor, sobbing. The image of the suffering redeemer unlocked decades of remorse and longing. The flow of tears seemed to serve as a purifying stream, washing away all her pent-up agitation. When at last she rose to her feet again, she felt refreshed, renewed, and even reborn.
From then on, Teresa experienced a relentless series of supernatural states. Visions of the resurrected Christ, his Blessed Mother, and various saints were punctuated by spiritual voices in which specific messages were transmitted, such as, "Now I want you to speak not with men but with angels."

Teresa understood what this meant. She plunged into a life of unceasing prayer with all the zeal of a convert. Her raptures were frequent and famous. Sometimes she entered into trancelike states that paralyzed her for hours, and she seemed to stop breathing. When these things happened in public, Teresa found them terribly embarrassing. Legend tells it that as Teresa was in the choir singing among her sisters one day, she began to levitate. When the other nuns started to whisper and point, Teresa lowered her gaze and realized that she had risen several inches above the stone floor. "Put me down!" she demanded of God. And he did.

Once, when the Christ child appeared and asked her who she was, she replied, "I am Teresa of Jesus. Who are you?" "I am Jesus of Teresa," he said.

Perhaps the most influential of Teresa’s mystical moments was immortalized in marble by the Italian sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini. He called it Saint Teresa in Ecstasy. In this unabashedly sensual image, we see the nun swooning blissfully backward while a clearly delighted androgynous angel plunges a flaming sword into her, leaving her on fire with love for God. This experience has come to be known as the "Transverberation" and it occurred repeatedly over a sustained period of Teresa’s life. Each time the blade was withdrawn, Teresa felt as if her very entrails were being pulled out with it. "The pain is so severe," Teresa writes in her autobiography, "it made me moan. The sweetness of the intense pain is so extreme, there is no wanting it to end, and the soul isn’t satisfied with anything less than God." She had to admit that "the body has a large share" in this agonizing ecstasy.

As word began to spread about Teresa’s extraordinary experiences, the eyes of the Inquisition turned toward the middle-aged nun. But Teresa’s scrutiny of her own states was at least as severe as theirs. Fruitlessly, Teresa spent years seeking wise counsel to help her determine once and for all whether her visions, locutions, and raptures came from God or from the devil, or maybe even from mental pathology, all expressions of which at that time were lumped under the single heading of "melancholy."

Teresa seemed to find her spiritual gifts more humbling than exalting. While she praised God continuously for blessing "a common woman" with such glorious tastes of his love, she remained equally devoted to the sanctity of the ordinary. Provisions were often scarce in convent life and Teresa enjoyed cooking and eating. "God," Teresa would say, "lives also among the pots and pans." Once, upon being politely questioned about the obvious pleasure she took in food, Teresa was said to have commented, "When praying, pray. When eating partridge, eat partridge," and returned with gusto to her meal. "God save me from pious nuns," was a prayer Teresa was heard to mumble frequently under her breath.

By the time Teresa of Avila met John of the Cross, one of the few men she ever seemed to have recognized as being worthy of guiding her soul, she was learning to balance the inner life with the outer, to keep her ecstatic impulses in check when it was time to tend to the business of religious reform. Frustrated by her observations of the lazy slide of an Order founded originally on the ideals of simplicity and silence, Teresa took it upon herself to spearhead a return to a path of poverty and contemplative prayer in the Carmelite community.
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“I saw an angel beside me toward the left side, in bodily form…He was not very large, but small, very beautiful, his face so blazing with light that he seemed to be one of the very highest angels, who appear all on fire. They must be those they call Cherubim…I saw in his hands a long dart of gold, and at the end of the iron there seemed to me to be a little fire. This I thought he thrust through my heart several times, and that it reached my very entrails. As he withdrew it, I thought it brought them with it, and left me all burning with a great love of God. So great was the pain, that it made me give those moans; and so utter the sweetness that this sharpest of pains gave me, that there was no wanting it to stop, nor is there any contenting of the soul with less than God”. (St. Teresa, Life…Chapter 19).
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Transverberation;
of the Heart,
of St. Teresa of Avila

Among savants in the field of the Fine Arts there exists the firm and widespread belief that great masterpieces of poetry, painting, music, etc. are not from men, but from God. They are one in the conviction that He bestows upon the authors of such masterpieces an altogether rare and extraordinary kind of soul that is delicately attuned to beauty and possessed of the happy faculty of making it palpable, i.e., of reproducing it in meter, rhythm, sound, color and matter. In this way, God makes His divine perfections (of which all created beauty is but a faint shadow) known to mankind.

Now there exists another class of persons who are also blessed by God with a distinctive, uncommon kind of genius. They are the Mystics. To each of these, God gives a soul that is peculiarly sensitive to the realities of the supernatural order. That world we ordinary souls know by Faith. So do the Mystics, of course, but over and above, there is found in them, in the lower faculties of their soul, a kind of ‘resonance’ to the truths of the Faith. They enjoy the singular knack of being able to perceive supernatural entities through the medium of the senses, namely, in visions, locutions, divine “touches”, etc.

Because she is both saint and “bon fide” mystic, Teresa is a benefit to mankind. To her was granted experience of many supernatural realities: the Sacred Humanity of Jesus, an intellectual vision of the Blessed Trinity, the splendor of a soul in the state of grace, the power of holy water over demons, and many others. The heroic virtues she displayed for the greater part of her life placed her beyond the possibility of deceiving or being deceived in these matters, and so our Faith in Divine Revelation is deepened and strengthened.

The mystical favor granted St. Teresa, which she herself, in the words we have reproduced above, describes so beautifully, accompanied the infusion by God into her soul of an extraordinary grace. It is one He wants to give to all His saints but not to all does He make it known in this way. We see from the circumstances that this was the communication of an exalted degree of purifying and transforming Charity. The messenger was a Cherub, one of those whose office it is to impart sublime knowledge and love of God to lower orders of angels. The little fire on the end of the spear represents the intensity of the love, the spear itself, the death-dealing blow inflicted by it upon all base loves. It seemed to draw out her vital organs, signifying that henceforth she would live for God alone. The pain gives us to understand what a lofty knowledge of God was communicated to her, for her human nature was hard pressed to bear the weight of it (Who can see God and live?). The exquisite delight engendered by that knowledge gives us an inkling of the surpassing joy that comes of possessing Him who is ineffable goodness and loveliness. Who, reading of this, is not convinced of the reality of God’s gifts to man? Who does not reverence and esteem them all the more?

Now, it would be the height of foolishness for us to wait around for the Lord to bestow upon us a similar favor. At any rate, it isn’t wise to hold our breath till it happens. God has provided an ordinary way of pouring into our souls the grace of transforming love. We are reminded of it in the Carmelite Feast of the Transverberation of the Heart of St. Teresa, in the Chapter (short instruction) of Vespers and Lauds: “God’s Word to us is something alive, full of energy; it can penetrate deeper than any two-edged sword, reaching the very division between soul and spirit, between joints and marrow, quick to distinguish every thought and design in our hearts”. (Heb. 4,12 – Knox Transl.) The Word of God is the ordinary way. It can accomplish in us, gradually, over a long period of time, what the angel affected in Teresa in an instant. Or better, just to keep the records straight, what the angel brought about in her was merely the culmination, the grace which terminated and crowned the work that the Word of God had been doing in her soul little by little, day by day, year after year.

The Word of God is, then, in its own right, a dart. And it is wielded by other of God’s angels the Priests and Bishops of the Church. With it, they, too, aim to pierce the very substance of our souls, to bring death to ignoble love of self, to illuminate our minds with divine truth, and enkindle in our hearts an unadulterated love for God and man. It reaches down into the division of soul and spirit, distinguishing clearly the animal man from the spiritual man (who is created according to God in the justice and holiness of truth). It penetrates to the division between joints and marrow, that is, it instructs us concerning the relationships binding us to our fellow men in the body politic. It is the discoverer of our real self, laying bare the secret chambers of our minds and hearts.

It is God’s Will that we take the dart, which is God’s Word (St. Paul calls it the Sword of the Spirit) and plunge it frequently into the depths of our souls. We do this when we practice mental prayer daily. If we are faithful, we shall soon discover that it can and does transform us completely. It purges away all sinful affection, opens the eyes of our spirit to the ravishing beauty of the divine nature, and wins us the grace to live for God alone.