St. Teresa of Avila

St Teresa of Avila

An image of St Teresa from an interesting contemporary artist in New Mexico Patricia Hostetter-Lopez

She (Teresa of Avila) makes clear in what sense she uses the word prayer. “I could not,” she writes, “shut myself up within myself, in which consisted my whole way of prayer.” To pray (she stresses this repeatedly) is to withdraw into oneself, like the tortoise or the hedgehog. It is to find God hidden in the innermost part of the soul, like the succulent kernel concealed among the layers in the middle of the plamito or dwarf palm. She develops this idea in the ‘Interior Castle’ in which she writes of God as a King whose council chamber is in the center of the palace. This conception of prayer first came to her when she read the ‘Third Spiritual Alphabet’ of Francisco de Osuna which was given her by her uncle Don Pedro de Cepeda when she visited him on her way to Becedas to be treated by the curandera. Her copy of this book may be seen in the sacristy of Saint Joseph’s convent, Avila, along with a drum and pipes that she used to play at recreation—also one of her letters that has been decorated with bright, painted birds. It is a small volume, much scored, with yellowed leaves and heavy type. In the margins, to draw attention to passages of importance, there are signs that include a heart, a cross, and a pointing hand. I had reason to remember this book when, as I was traveling one day to Granada to Seville, the bus drew up in a street of dazzlingly white houses. It was Osuna, where the author of the ‘Third Spiritual Alphabet’ was born. White walls and iron balconies came up to the windows of the bus. Ahead I saw more white walls and golden pantile roofs and overhead the glaring blue of the sky. Francisco de Osuna, who like Ignatius Loyola was a soldier as well as a mystic, was at Tripoli when the Spaniards took the town in 1510. He writes of prayer in the language of human love which he describes as “a ladder which the feet of the wise mount to God.” Prayer is nothing else than a conversation, as Teresa was later to put it, between two persons who love each other. Moreover to love God is within the scope of all for it is dependent not on activity but on the will. “All,” he writes, “cannot fast or wear rough clothing, labor or journey. But if you say you cannot love, I do not believe you.” –‘A Journey in Spain: Saint Teresa’ by Elizabeth Hamilton

Nada te turbe,
Nada te espante,
Todo se pasa,
Dios no se muda.
La paciencia
Todo lo alcanza;
Quien a Dios tiene
Nada le falta:
Sólo Dios basta.
Eleva el pensamiento,
Al cielo sube,
Por nada te acongojes,
Nada te turbe.
A Jesucristo sigue
Con pecho grande,
Y, venga lo que venga,
Nada te espante.
¿Ves la gloria del mundo
Es gloria vana;
Nada tiene de estable,
Todo se pasa.
Aspira a lo celeste,
Que siempre dura;
Fiel y rico en promesas,
Dios no se muda.
Ámala cual merece
Bondad inmensa;
Pero no hay amor fino
Sin la paciencia.
Confianza y fe viva
Mantenga el alma,
Que quien cree y espera
Todo lo alcanza.
Del infierno acosado
Aunque se viere,
Burlará sus furors
Quien a Dios tiene.
Vénganle desamparos,
Cruces, desgracias;
Siendo Dios su tesoro,
Nada le falta.
Id, pues, bienes del mundo;
Id, dichas vanas;
Aunque todo lo pierda,
Sólo Dios basta.
Nothing disturbs you,
Nothing scares you,
Everything passes,
God does not move.
Patience
All achieve it;
Whoever has nothing;
Only God is sufficient.
Lift up the thought,
To the sky rises,
Do not worry about nothing,
Nothing troubles you.
Jesus Christ remains,
With a Sacred Heart,
And come what may,
Do not be afraid.
Do you see the glory of the world?
It is vain glory;
Nothing is stable,
Everything passes
He aspires to the celestial,
Permanence, ever-lasting;
Faithful and rich in promises,
God is unchanging.
Love that which deserves love,
Immense Goodness;
But there is no refined love,
Without patience.
Trials and tribulations,
Trust and live in faith,
Keep the soul,
That who believes and hopes,
Everything is achieved.
Within the harassed hell,
Through, he sees himself,
He will mock his wrath
Whoever has God.
Approach Him helpless,
Crosses and misfortunes;
God is the treasure,
Nothing lacking.
Go therefore, worldly goods;
The vain;
Even if I lose everything,
God alone is sufficient.
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A Saint

Her (St Teresa of Avila) sense of guilt, exaggerated by the conflicts of adolescence, followed her into later life. It shows itself in a diffidence that at first sight seems surprising in one who was otherwise courageous and enterprising. “I am always timorous when I have to make a decision about anything—I immediately think I’m going to do everything wrong,” she writes from the Incarnation when she is Prioress in 1573. Often when she has achieved something in the face of difficulty and opposition, she suffers a reaction, begins to question the wisdom of what she has done. This happened after the founding of Saint Joseph’s, and again at Medina del Campo. This weakness in Teresa is a very human one. It is a reminder, too, that those whom the Church has raised to her altars as great servants of God, heroic in courage and singleness of heart, are yet persons like ourselves. The saints will not please the cold perfectionist nor the stoic. They are not superman, flawless, nor beings changed once and for all by a lightning conversion. Saint Paul’s conversion appears to have been a lightning one, if any was. Yet in the years that followed he was buffeted by an angel of Satan, nor is there any reason to suppose that he ceased to be buffeted to the end.

A person suffering from a sense of guilt can be cured, or at least made better, through treatment from a psychologist; or through a change from unfavorable environment to favorable. In either case the part played by encouragement is all important. Teresa, though in her spiritual and active life she had much to discourage her, found encouragement, too. When all were against her, thinking her a madwoman and deluded by the devil, Peter of Alcantara encouraged her. Possibly that strange character, as remote from our understanding as one of the desert hermits and the last person one would expect to take up a woman’s cause, was himself encouraged by the young Teresa who, so she tells us, took an interest in his affairs. She was encouraged, too, by the Dominican, Vicente Barron, Don Alonso’s confessor and afterwards her own, who, when she had given up prayer, saved her from the sloth of false humility, making her understand, what she was later to pass on to others, that to pray is always good nor is any soul, however evil, excluded from the love of God. –‘A Journey in Spain: Saint Teresa’ Elizabeth Hamilton

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St Teresa of Avila: God’s revolutionary

Teresa was a religious of only one cause, the only one of any religious: perfection, and for such divine purpose she offered herself, the testimony of her life, her hidden and bare humanity as the book where everyone, either woman or man, red or white, could find the utter truth behind every atom of reality. With this intellectual as well as spiritual sacrifice, she is not only undertaking the path of the Cross where Christ set out the wounds of his flesh as a testimony of a renewed human dignity, but also the example of the great Doctors and teachers of the Church: She dialogued with the world as St. Augustine did in his platonic style confessions (clearly shown in The Book of the Life); she imitated the love of St. Jerome for the scriptures and his Christological exegesis; who could be unaware of the similarities between her treatment of the virtues and that of St. Thomas Aquinas (especially in The Way of Perfection)? The doctrine of Teresa is not something “new” like those of the sixteenth century reformers, but a sublime actualisation of the same message, the very Good News which only revolutionary attempt finds its goal in the human spirit.

If someone wants to be “authentically” revolutionary, the best way to pursue this desire would be attending the God’s call towards a deep conversion of the very heart and human’s nature, and for such heroic work, perhaps there couldn’t be a better “red book” than the writings of St. Theresa of Avila.  Godzdogz: Dominican Friars – England & Scotland post by Br Rafael Jimenez O.P.

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Restraint of understanding within Prayer

Since I have not worked on this book for several days, I have forgotten much of what I was saying to you.  However, I won’t dwell on those matters much, and I won’t worry too much about making connections in this chapter to things I’ve already written.  If you have an orderly mind and are able to practice prayer in great solitude, you will benefit a great deal from the many books on prayer written by more competent people than I.  There are books that describe the mysteries and the Passion of the Lord in short passages, one for each day of the week.  There are meditations on the Judgement, on Hell, on our own nothingness, and all we owe to God.  These books contain helpful teachings as well as excellent methods for using well your time of prayer.  If anyone already has the habit of practicing prayer in this way, the Lord will lead her to the harbor of light.  If she begins well, she will also end well.  Everyone who walks along the road will walk restfully and securely, for one always walks restfully when she restrains her understanding.   –‘The Way of Perfection’ Teresa of Avila

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Misunderstanding

Do Thou, O Lord, take into account all that we suffer in this way through our ignorance. We err in thinking that we need only know that we must keep our thoughts fixed on Thee. We do not understand that we should consult those better instructed than ourselves, nor are we aware that there is anything for us to learn. We pass through terrible trials, on account of not understanding our own nature and take what is not merely harmless, but good, for a grave fault. This causes the sufferings felt by many people, particularly by the unlearned, who practice prayer. They complain of interior trials, become melancholy, lose their health, and even give up prayer altogether for want of recognizing that we have within ourselves as it were, an interior world. We cannot stop the revolution of the heavens as they rush with velocity upon their course, neither can we control our imagination. When this wanders we at once imagine that all the powers of the soul follow it; we think everything is lost, and that the time spent in God’s presence is wasted. Meanwhile, the soul is perhaps entirely united to Him in the innermost mansions, while the imagination is in the precincts of the castle, struggling with a thousand wild and venomous creatures and gaining merit by its warfare. Therefore we need not let ourselves be disturbed, nor give up prayer, as the devil is striving to persuade us. As a rule, all our anxieties and troubles come from misunderstanding our own nature. –St Teresa of Avila ‘Interior Castle’

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Straight from the heart

Love can be manifested in a variety of ways to God.  It can be a love shown in both prayer and action.  It can be the love of contemplatives, for example, in the religious life who pray not only for themselves, but in actuality more for others.  It can be a love of a very active spiritual nature in which the actions throughout each day can be offered up for the greater honor, glory, and love of God.  This is especially true of people of various occupations of work in which the very work they’re doing can become a prayer.  It can take the form of suffering in which the suffering persons offer up their suffering to God out of pure love for Him, for themselves, and others throughout the world.  The most vitally important thing about prayer is that it comes pure from the heart—without distractions if possible, and be devoid of self-love, self-seeking, or self-interest.  –St Teresa of Avila

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Header photo reflection

As a stag longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul for thee, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and behold the face of God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”

These things I remember, as I pour out my soul:
How I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God,
With glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
Why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
My soul is cast down within me,
Therefore I remember thee from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep at the thunder of thy cataracts;
All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me.
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love;
And at night his song is with me,
A prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God, my rock:
“Why hast thou forgotten me?
Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me,
While they say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
Why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

Psalm 42

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

— St. Teresa of Avila

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