La Santa Madre

I recently read an excellent biography of the great saint and Doctor of the Church, Teresa of Jesus, by Cathleen Medwick. Ms. Medwick, while neither a Spaniard nor a Catholic--she is, in fact, an American Jew--captures perfectly the flavor of 16th century Spain, as well as the wit, determination, and chutzpah of la Santa Madre in Teresa of Avila: The Progress of a Soul.

I must confess that, when it comes to all things Teresian, I am very biased. Teresa is my best friend in heaven, the true companion of my soul. Still, I think that Medwick's book is as thorough and honest a reading of the life of the revered saint as one may find outside of her own autobiography, the Vida de Teresa de Jesus ("Life of Teresa of Jesus"), perhaps more so given Medwick's unique perspective. After all, Teresa was herself ethnically Jewish; her grandparents were conversos, Jews who were baptized in the Reconquista of Ferdinand and Isabella. (In an interesting turn of providence, three great Carmelite saints and spiritual masters, Teresa of Jesus, John of the Cross, co-founder with Teresa of the Discalced Reform, and Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, or Edith Stein, the brilliant philosopher and martyr of Auschwitz, were all ethnically Jewish.) Medwick's Teresa is a sign of contradiction: as a nun, bold yet humble, as a religious superior, firm yet loving, and as a reformer of her Carmelite Order and founder of monasteries, industrious yet completely trusting in God's providence.

For Teresa, the Discalced Reform was, ulltimately, God's own project, and God would see it completed. Perhaps a little context is necessary here. By the 16th century, the Carmelite Order, which has been founded in the Holy Land in the 13th century, had strayed from the austerity and prayerfulness of the primitive Rule, especially in Spain, where noble ladies were permitted to bring lapdogs and servants into the convent, adapt the habit to reflect their superior station, and come and go freely from the convent, to the neglect of their religious duties. Teresa's own convent of La Encarnacion was no exception. Moved by a voice from heaven, she established the first reformed convent, called descalzo ("discalced" from the fact that the nuns wore not shoes but simple hemp sandals), San Jose de Avila in 1562, with many more to follow throughout Castile and Andalusia.

While Teresa authored many books throughout her long life, including her spiritual masterpiece, Las Moradas ("The Mansions", more commonly known in English as The Interior Castle), as many commentators point out, her greatest work was her reform movement, which eventually bore fruit in many communities of strictly enclosed, contemplative nuns, as well as friars who, due to the requirements of their various ministries, were less strictly enclosed, but no less contemplative. To this day, these sons and daughters of Mary, Queen and Beauty of Carmel, live lives of prayer and quiet sacrifice, constantly interceding for the people of God.

A good companion to Medwick's biography is the nine-part Spanish mini-series Teresa de Jesus, directed by Josefina Molina and starring Concha Velasco as Teresa.

Vocations and the Charisms

A Scripture passage occurred to me while praying yesterday, in a charismatic prayer meeting, as it happened. I was praying especially for strength and guidance in my vocational discernment to the priesthood (and possibly to the Carmelites). It is the words of our Lord to Peter on the sea shore, after His resurrection:

Amen, amen I say to you, when you were younger you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go... Follow me. (John 21:18)

Just the night before, in another prayer meeting, of which priestly discernment was the purpose, I asked the question, "To what extent will the charismatic dimension of our faith influence vocations in the future?" To which a wise priest-friend responded (and I paraphrase), "Well, baptism in the Holy Spirit is, first, a total surrender to the will of God, so to that extent, it is essential to being open and responsive to a call from the Lord."

Yes, surrender is essential; and this is the heart of what those in the charismatic renewal (like the Fathers of the Church) call "baptism in the Holy Spirit". We give ourselves totally to God. And I mean totally--none of this "Oh God, make me good, but not yet" stuff. This constant reserve, this unwillingness to let God lead us in all our ways, of which I myself am often guilty.

A personal testimony: Until quite recently, I had never seriously considered a potential call to the religious life. It was always, "Oh, it's possible, but I don't think so." Always, "I'm all about doing the will of God, but I want the relative freedoms (or what I perceived as the relative freedoms) of a diocesan priest." But my faith, and thus my vocation, have grown tremendously in the past year (especially in the past month) and as I devour Carmelite literature, I find myself attracted to Carmelite spirituality. And as I throw myself headlong into the charismatic renewal, I find myself more open and more responsive to God's call... wherever He may lead me.

So I beg you, my brothers and sisters, open your hearts and your minds to the will of God, wherever He may lead you, trusting that He wants more for you than you could possibly want for yourselves, such is His inestimable love for you. Surrender yourselves totally to the movements of the Spirit. Always sing, in the words of John Michael Talbot, "I will go Lord, if You lead me/ I will hold Your people in my heart" ("Here I am, Lord").

This video features a prayer by one of my favorite Carmelite saints, Teresa of Avila. It is translated (roughly), "Let nothing trouble you, let nothing frighten you/ He who has God lacks nothing,/All things pass, God does not change, patience achieves everything/God alone suffices."



In His peace.