Life of St Teresa of Jesus - Teresa of Avila (classic books for 11 year olds TXT) 📗

Night,

bk. ii. ch. 7.

9. Ch. xxvii. § 3.

10. Ch. xxv. § 8.

11. See § 2.

12. § 7, supra.

13. See ch. xxiii. § 14.

14. Ch. xxiv. § 5.

15. There were in Spain, and elsewhere, many women who were

hypocrites, or deluded. Among others was the prioress of Lisbon,

afterwards notorious, who deceived Luis of Granada (De

la Fuente).

16. Inner Fortress, vi. 1, § 4.

17. Ch. xxvi. § 5; Inner Fortress, vi. 9, § 7.

18. See ch. xxv. § 18.

19. 2 Paralip. xx. 12: “Sed cum ignoremus quid agere debeamus,

hoc solum habemus residui, ut oculos nostros dirigamus ad Te.”

20. See ch. xxx. § 6.

Chapter XXIX.

Of Visions. The Graces Our Lord Bestowed on the Saint.

The Answers Our Lord Gave Her for Those Who Tried Her.

1. I have wandered far from the subject; for I undertook to

give reasons why the vision was no work of the imagination.

For how can we, by any efforts of ours, picture to ourselves the

Humanity of Christ, and imagine His great beauty? No little time

is necessary, if our conception is in any way to resemble it.

Certainly, the imagination may be able to picture it, and a

person may for a time contemplate that picture,—the form and the

brightness of it,—and gradually make it more perfect, and so lay

up that image in his memory. Who can hinder this, seeing that it

could be fashioned by the understanding? But as to the vision of

which I am speaking, there are no means of bringing it about;

only we must behold it when our Lord is pleased to present it

before us, as He wills and what He wills; and there is no

possibility of taking anything away from it, or of adding

anything to it; nor is there any way of effecting it, whatever we

may do, nor of seeing it when we like, nor of abstaining from

seeing; if we try to gaze upon it—part of the vision in

particular—the vision of Christ is lost at once.

2. For two years and a half God granted me this grace very

frequently; but it is now more than three years since He has

taken away from me its continual presence, through another of a

higher nature, as I shall perhaps explain hereafter. [1]

And though I saw Him speaking to me, and though I was

contemplating His great beauty, and the sweetness with which

those words of His came forth from His divine mouth,—they were

sometimes uttered with severity,—and though I was extremely

desirous to behold the colour of His eyes, or the form of them,

so that I might be able to describe them, yet I never attained to

the sight of them, and I could do nothing for that end; on the

contrary, I lost the vision altogether. And though I see that He

looks upon me at times with great tenderness, yet so strong is

His gaze, that my soul cannot endure it; I fall into a trance so

deep, that I lose the beautiful vision, in order to have a

greater fruition of it all.

3. Accordingly, willing or not willing, the vision has

nothing to do with it. Our Lord clearly regards nothing but

humility and confusion of face, the acceptance of what He wishes

to give, and the praise of Himself, the Giver. This is true of

all visions without exception: we can contribute nothing towards

them—we cannot add to them, nor can we take from them; our own

efforts can neither make nor unmake them. Our Lord would have us

see most clearly that it is no work of ours, but of His Divine

Majesty; we are therefore the less able to be proud of it: on the

contrary, it makes us humble and afraid; for we see that, as our

Lord can take from us the power of seeing what we would see, so

also can He take from us these mercies and His grace, and we may

be lost for ever. We must therefore walk in His fear while we

are living in this our exile.

4. Our Lord showed Himself to me almost always as He is

after His resurrection. It was the same in the Host; only at

those times when I was in trouble, and when it was His will to

strengthen me, did He show His wounds. Sometimes I saw Him on

the cross, in the Garden, crowned with thorns,—but that was

rarely; sometimes also carrying His cross because of my

necessities,—I may say so,—or those of others; but always in

His glorified body. Many reproaches and many vexations have I

borne while telling this—many suspicions and much persecution

also. So certain were they to whom I spoke that I had an evil

spirit, that some would have me exorcised. I did not care much

for this; but I felt it bitterly when I saw that my confessors

were afraid to hear me, or when I knew that they were told of

anything about me.

5. Notwithstanding all this, I never could be sorry that I

had had these heavenly visions; nor would I exchange even one of

them for all the wealth and all the pleasures of the world.

I always regarded them as a great mercy from our Lord; and to me

they were the very greatest treasure,—of this our Lord assured

me often. I used to go to Him to complain of all these

hardships; and I came away from prayer consoled, and with renewed

strength. I did not dare to contradict those who were trying me;

for I saw that it made matters worse, because they looked on my

doing so as a failure in humility. I spoke of it to my

confessor; he always consoled me greatly when he saw me

in distress.

6. As my visions grew in frequency, one of those who used to

help me before—it was to him I confessed when the

father-minister [2] could not hear me—began to say that I was

certainly under the influence of Satan. He bade me, now that I

had no power of resisting, always to make the sign of the cross

when I had a vision, to point my finger at it by way of

scorn, [3] and be firmly persuaded of its diabolic nature. If I

did this, the vision would not recur. I was to be without fear

on the point; God would watch over me, and take the vision

away. [4] This was a great hardship for me; for, as I could not

believe that the vision did not come from God, it was a fearful

thing for me to do; and I could not wish, as I said before, that

the visions should be withheld. However, I did at last as I was

bidden. I prayed much to our Lord, that He would deliver me from

delusions. I was always praying to that effect, and with many

tears. I had recourse also to St. Peter and St. Paul; for our

Lord had said to me—it was on their feast that He had appeared

to me the first time [5]—that they would preserve me from

delusion. I used to see them frequently most distinctly on my

left hand; but that vision was not imaginary. These glorious

Saints were my very good lords.

7. It was to me a most painful thing to make a show of

contempt whenever I saw our Lord in a vision; for when I saw Him

before me, if I were to be cut in pieces, I could not believe it

was Satan. This was to me, therefore, a heavy kind of penance;

and accordingly, that I might not be so continually crossing

myself, I used to hold a crucifix in my hand. This I did almost

always; but I did not always make signs of contempt, because I

felt that too much. It reminded me of the insults which the Jews

heaped upon Him; and so I prayed Him to forgive me, seeing that I

did so in obedience to him who stood in His stead, and not to lay

the blame on me, seeing that he was one of those whom He had

placed as His ministers in His Church. He said to me that I was

not to distress myself—that I did well to obey; but He would

make them see the truth of the matter. He seemed to me to be

angry when they made me give up my prayer. [6] He told me to say

to them that this was tyranny. He gave me reasons for believing

that the vision was not satanic; some of them I mean to repeat by

and by.

8. On one occasion,when I was holding in my hand the cross

of my rosary, He took it from me into His own hand. He returned

it; but it was then four large stones incomparably more precious

than diamonds; for nothing can be compared with what is

supernatural. Diamonds seem counterfeits and imperfect when

compared with these precious stones. The five wounds were

delineated on them with most admirable art. He said to me, that

for the future that cross would appear so to me always; and so it

did. I never saw the wood of which it was made, but only the

precious stones. They were seen, however, by no one else,—only

by myself. [7]

9. When they had begun to insist on my putting my visions to

a test like this, and resisting them, the graces I received were

multiplied more and more. I tried to distract myself; I never

ceased to be in prayer: even during sleep my prayer seemed to be

continual; for now my love grew, I made piteous complaints to our

Lord, and told Him I could not bear it. Neither was it in my

power—though I desired, and, more than that, even strove—to

give up thinking of Him. Nevertheless, I obeyed to the utmost of

my power; but my power was little or nothing in the matter; and

our Lord never released me from that obedience; but though He

bade me obey my confessor, He reassured me in another way, and

taught me what I was to say. He has continued to do so until

now; and He gave me reasons so sufficient, that I felt myself

perfectly safe.

10. Not long afterwards His Majesty began, according to His

promise, to make it clear that it was He Himself who appeared, by

the growth in me of the love of God so strong, that I knew not

who could have infused it; for it was most supernatural, and I

had not attained to it by any efforts of my own. I saw myself

dying with a desire to see God, and I knew not how to seek that

life otherwise than by dying. Certain great impetuosities [8] of

love, though not so intolerable as those of which I have spoken

before, [9] nor yet of so great worth, overwhelmed me. I knew

not what to do; for nothing gave me pleasure, and I had no

control over myself. It seemed as if my soul were really torn

away from myself. Oh, supreme artifice of our Lord! how tenderly

didst Thou deal with Thy miserable slave! Thou didst hide

Thyself from me, and didst yet constrain me with Thy love, with a

death so sweet, that my soul would never wish it over.

11. It is not possible for any one to understand these

impetuosities if he has not experienced them himself. They are

not an upheaving of the