Life of St Teresa of Jesus - Teresa of Avila (classic books for 11 year olds TXT) 📗
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nothing but putting it out more and more.
12. I believe that now the best course is to be absolutely
resigned, confessing that we can do nothing, and so apply
ourselves—as I said before [8]—to something else which is
meritorious. Our Lord, it may be, takes away from the soul the
power of praying, that it may betake itself to something else,
and learn by experience how little it can do in its own strength.
13. It is true I have this day been rejoicing in our Lord, and
have dared to complain of His Majesty. I said unto Him: How is
it, O my God, that it is not enough for Thee to detain me in this
wretched life, and that I should have to bear with it for the
love of Thee, and be willing to live where everything hinders the
fruition of Thee; where, besides, I must eat and sleep, transact
business, and converse with every one, and all for Thy love? how
is it, then,—for Thou well knowest, O my Lord, all this to be
the greatest torment unto me,—that, in the rare moments when I
am with Thee, Thou hidest Thyself from me? How is this
consistent with Thy compassion? How can that love Thou hast for
me endure this? I believe, O Lord, if it were possible for me to
hide myself from Thee, as Thou hidest Thyself from me—I think
and believe so—such is Thy love, that Thou wouldest not endure
it at my hands. But Thou art with me, and seest me always. O my
Lord, I beseech Thee look to this; it must not be; a wrong is
done to one who loves Thee so much.
14. I happened to utter these words, and others of the same kind,
when I should have been thinking rather how my place in hell was
pleasant in comparison with the place I deserved. But now and
then my love makes me foolish, so that I lose my senses; only it
is with all the sense I have that I make these complaints, and
our Lord bears it all. Blessed be so good a King!
15. Can we be thus bold with the kings of this world? And yet I
am not surprised that we dare not thus speak to a king, for it is
only reasonable that men should be afraid of him, or even to the
great lords who are his representatives. The world is now come
to such a state, that men’s lives ought to be longer than they
are if we are to learn all the new customs and ceremonies of good
breeding, and yet spend any time in the service of God. I bless
myself at the sight of what is going on. The fact is, I did not
know how I was to live when I came into this house.
Any negligence in being much more ceremonious with people than
they deserve is not taken as a jest; on the contrary, they look
upon it as an insult deliberately offered; so that it becomes
necessary for you to satisfy them of your good intentions, if
there happens, as I have said, to have been any negligence; and
even then, God grant they may believe you.
16. I repeat it,—I certainly did not know how to live; for my
poor soul was worn out. It is told to employ all its thoughts
always on God, and that it is necessary to do so if it would
avoid many dangers. On the other hand, it finds it will not do
to fail in any one point of the world’s law, under the penalty of
affronting those who look upon these things as touching their
honour. I was worn out in unceasingly giving satisfaction to
people; for, though I tried my utmost, I could not help failing
in many ways in matters which, as I have said, are not slightly
thought of in the world.
17. Is it true that in religious houses no explanations are
necessary, for it is only reasonable we should be excused these
observances? Well, that is not so; for there are people who say
that monasteries ought to be courts in politeness and
instruction. I certainly cannot understand it. I thought that
perhaps some saint may have said that they ought to be courts to
teach those who wish to be the courtiers of heaven, and that
these people misunderstood their meaning; for if a man be careful
to please God continually, and to hate the world, as he ought to
do, I do not see how he can be equally careful to please those
who live in the world in these matters which are continually
changing. If they could be learnt once for all, it might be
borne with: but as to the way of addressing letters, there ought
to be a professor’s chair founded, from which lectures should be
given, so to speak, teaching us how to do it; for the paper
should on one occasion be left blank in one corner, and on
another in another corner; and a man must be addressed as the
illustrious who was not hitherto addressed as the magnificent.
18. I know not where this will stop: I am not yet fifty, and yet
I have seen so many changes during my life, that I do not know
how to live. What will they do who are only just born, and who
may live many years? Certainly I am sorry for those spiritual
people who, for certain holy purposes, are obliged to live in the
world; the cross they have to carry is a dreadful one. If they
could all agree together, and make themselves ignorant, and be
willing to be considered so in these sciences, they would set
themselves free from much trouble. But what folly am I about!
from speaking of the greatness of God I am come to speak of the
meanness of the world! Since our Lord has given me the grace to
quit it, I wish to leave it altogether. Let them settle these
matters who maintain these follies with so much labour.
God grant that in the next life, where there is no changing, we
may not have to pay for them! Amen.
1. The Saint, having interrupted her account of her interior life
in order to give the history of the foundation of the monastery
of St. Joseph, Avila,—the first house of the Reformed
Carmelites,—here resumes that account broken off at the end of §
10 of ch. xxxii.
2. Ephes. i. 14: “Pignus hæreditatis nostræ.”
3. St. John iii. 34: “Non enim ad mensuram dat Deus spiritum.”
4. Ch. xxviii. §§ 1-5.
5. See ch. xl. § 24; Way of Perfection, ch. vii. § 1; but
ch. iv. of the previous editions.
6. See ch. xx. § 14.
7. See ch. xxx. § 19.
8. See ch. xxx. §§ 18, 25.
Chapter XXXVIII.
Certain Heavenly Secrets, Visions, and Revelations. The Effects
of Them in Her Soul.
1. One night I was so unwell that I thought I might be excused
making my prayer; so I took my rosary, that I might employ myself
in vocal prayer, trying not to be recollected in my
understanding, though outwardly I was recollected, being in my
oratory. These little precautions are of no use when our Lord
will have it otherwise. I remained there but a few moments thus,
when I was rapt in spirit with such violence that I could make no
resistance whatever. It seemed to me that I was taken up to
heaven; and the first persons I saw there were my father and my
mother. I saw other things also; but the time was no longer than
that in which the Ave Maria might be said, and I was amazed at
it, looking on it all as too great a grace for me. But as to the
shortness of the time, it might have been longer, only it was all
done in a very short space.
2. I was afraid it might be an illusion; but as I did not think
so, I knew not what to do, because I was very much ashamed to go
to my confessor about it. It was not, as it seemed to me,
because I was humble, but because I thought he would laugh at me,
and say: Oh, what a St. Paul!—she sees the things of heaven; or
a St. Jerome. And because these glorious Saints had had such
visions, I was so much the more afraid, and did nothing but cry;
for I did not think it possible for me to see what they saw.
At last, though I felt it exceedingly, I went to my confessor;
for I never dared to keep secret anything of this kind, however
much it distressed me to speak of them, owing to the great fear I
had of being deceived. When my confessor saw how much I was
suffering, he consoled me greatly, and gave me plenty of good
reasons why I should have no fear.
3. It happened, also, as time went on, and it happens now from
time to time, that our Lord showed me still greater secrets.
The soul, even if it would, has neither the means not the power
to see more than what He shows it; and so, each time, I saw
nothing more than what our Lord was pleased to let me see.
But such was the vision, that the least part of it was enough to
make my soul amazed, and to raise it so high that it esteems and
counts as nothing all the things of this life. I wish I could
describe, in some measure, the smallest portion of what I saw;
but when I think of doing it, I find it impossible; for the mere
difference alone between the light we have here below, and that
which is seen in a vision,—both being light,—is so great, that
there is no comparison between them; the brightness of the sun
itself seems to be something exceedingly loathsome. In a word,
the imagination, however strong it may be, can neither conceive
nor picture to itself this light, nor any one of the things which
our Lord showed me in a joy so supreme that it cannot be
described; for then all the senses exult so deeply and so sweetly
that no description is possible; and so it is better to say
nothing more.
4. I was in this state once for more than an hour, our Lord
showing me wonderful things. He seemed as if He would not leave
me. He said to me, “See, My daughter, what they lose who are
against Me; do not fail to tell them of it.” Ah, my Lord, how
little good my words will do them, who are made blind by their
own conduct, if Thy Majesty will not give them light! Some, to
whom Thou hast given it, there are, who have profited by the
knowledge of Thy greatness; but as they see it revealed to one so
wicked and base as I am, I look upon it as a great thing if there
should be any found to believe me. Blessed be Thy name, and
blessed be Thy compassion; for I can trace, at least in my own
soul, a visible improvement. Afterwards I wished I had continued
in that trance for ever, and that I had not returned to
consciousness, because of an abiding sense of contempt for
everything here below; all seemed to be filth; and I see how
meanly we employ ourselves who
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