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

class="calibre1">9. It seems to me that our Lord will have the soul know more of

that, the fruition of which it has, in a trance than in union,

and accordingly in a rapture the soul receives most commonly

certain revelations of His Majesty, and the effects thereof on

the soul are great,—a forgetfulness of self, through the longing

it has that God our Lord, who is so high, may be known and

praised. In my opinion, if the rapture be from God, the soul

cannot fail to obtain a deep conviction of its own helplessness,

and of its wretchedness and ingratitude, in that it has not

served Him who, of His own goodness only, bestows upon it graces

so great; for the feeling and the sweetness are so high above all

things that may be compared therewith that, if the recollection

of them did not pass away, all the satisfactions of earth would

be always loathsome to it; and hence comes the contempt for all

the things of the world.

10. The difference between trance and transport [5] is this,—in

a trance the soul gradually dies to outward things, losing the

senses and living unto God. A transport comes on by one sole act

of His Majesty, wrought in the innermost part of the soul with

such swiftness that it is as if the higher part thereof were

carried away, and the soul leaving the body. Accordingly it

requires courage at first to throw itself into the arms of our

Lord, that He may take it whithersoever He will; for, until His

Majesty establishes it in peace there whither He is pleased to

take it—by take it I mean the admitting of it to the knowledge

of deep things—it certainly requires in the beginning to be

firmly resolved to die for Him, because the poor soul does not

know what this means—that is, at first. The virtues, as it

seems to me, remain stronger after this, for there is a growth in

detachment, and the power of God, who is so mighty, is the more

known, so that the soul loves and fears Him. For so it is, He

carries away the soul, no longer in our power, as the true Lord

thereof, which is filled with a deep sorrow for having offended

Him, and astonishment that it ever dared to offend a Majesty so

great, with an exceedingly earnest desire that none may

henceforth offend Him, and that all may praise Him. This, I

think, must be the source of those very fervent desires for the

salvation of souls, and for some share therein, and for the due

praising of God.

11. The flight of the spirit—I know not how to call it—is a

rising upwards from the very depths of the soul. I remember only

this comparison, and I made use of it before, as you know, my

father, in that writing where these and other ways of prayer are

explained at length, [6] and such is my memory that I forget

things at once. It seems to me that soul and spirit are one and

the same thing; but only as a fire, if it is great and ready for

burning; so, like fire burning rapidly, the soul, in that

preparation of itself which is the work of God, sends up a

flame,—the flame ascends on high, but the fire thereof is the

same as that below, nor does the flame cease to be fire because

it ascends: so here, in the soul, something so subtile and so

swift, seems to issue from it, that ascends to the higher part,

and goes thither whither our Lord wills. I cannot go further

with the explanation; it seems a flight, and I know of nothing

else wherewith to compare it: I know that it cannot be mistaken,

for it is most evident when it occurs, and that it cannot

be hindered.

12. This little bird of the spirit seems to have escaped out of

this wretchedness of the flesh, out of the prison of this body,

and now, disentangled therefrom, is able to be the more intent on

that which our Lord is giving it. The flight of the spirit is

something so fine, of such inestimable worth, as the soul

perceives it, that all delusion therein seems impossible, or

anything of the kind, when it occurs. It was afterwards that

fear arose, because she who received this grace was so wicked;

for she saw what good reasons she had to be afraid of everything,

though in her innermost soul there remained an assurance and a

confidence wherein she was able to live, but not enough to make

her cease from the anxiety she was in not to be deceived.

13. By impetus I mean that desire which at times rushes into the

soul, without being preceded by prayer, and this is most

frequently the case; it is a sudden remembering that the soul is

away from God, or of a word it has heard to that effect.

This remembering is occasionally so strong and vehement that the

soul in a moment becomes as if the reason were gone, just like a

person who suddenly hears most painful tidings of which he knew

not before, or is surprised; such a one seems deprived of the

power of collecting his thoughts for his own comfort, and is as

one lost. So is it in this state, except that the suffering

arises from this, that there abides in the soul a conviction that

it would be well worth dying in it. It seems that whatever the

soul then perceives does but increase its suffering, and that our

Lord will have its whole being find no comfort in anything, nor

remember that it is His will that it should live: the soul seems

to itself to be in great and indescribable loneliness, and

abandoned of all, because the world, and all that is in it, gives

it pain; and because it finds no companionship in any created

thing, the soul seeks its Creator alone, and this it sees to be

impossible unless it dies; and as it must not kill itself, it is

dying to die, and there is really a risk of death, and it sees

itself hanging between heaven and earth, not knowing what to do

with itself. And from time to time God gives it a certain

knowledge of Himself, that it may see what it loses, in a way so

strange that no explanation of it is possible; and there is no

pain in the world—at least I have felt none—that is equal or

like unto this, for if it lasts but half an hour the whole body

is out of joint, and the bones so racked, that I am not able to

write with my hands: the pains I endure are most grievous. [7]

14. But nothing of all this is felt till the impetus shall have

passed away. He to whom it comes has enough to do in enduring

that which is going on within him, nor do I believe that he would

feel if he were grievously tortured: he is in possession of all

his senses, can speak, and even observe; walk about he

cannot,—the great blow of that love throws him down to the

ground. If we were to die to have this, it would be of no use,

for it cannot be except when God sends it. It leaves great

effects and blessings in the soul. Some learned men say that it

is this, others that it is that, but no one condemns it. The

Father-Master d’Avila wrote to me and said it was good, and so

say all. The soul clearly understands that it is a great grace

from our Lord; were it to occur more frequently, life would not

last long.

15. The ordinary impetus is, that this desire of serving God

comes on with a certain tenderness, accompanied with tears, out

of a longing to depart from this land of exile; but as the soul

retains its freedom, wherein it reflects that its living on is

according to our Lord’s will, it takes comfort in that thought,

and offers its life to Him, beseeching Him that it may last only

for His glory. This done, it bears all.

16. Another prayer very common is a certain kind of wounding; [8]

for it really seems to the soul as if an arrow were thrust

through the heart, or through itself. Thus it causes great

suffering, which makes the soul complain; but the suffering is so

sweet, that it wishes it never would end. The suffering is not

one of sense, neither is the wound physical; it is in the

interior of the soul, without any appearance of bodily pain; but

as I cannot explain it except by comparing it with other pains, I

make use of these clumsy expressions,—for such they are when

applied to this suffering. I cannot, however, explain it in any

other way. It is, therefore, neither to be written of nor spoken

of, because it is impossible for any one to understand it who has

not had experience of it,—I mean, how far the pain can go; for

the pains of the spirit are very different from those of earth.

I gather, therefore, from this, that the souls in hell and

purgatory suffer more than we can imagine, by considering these

pains of the body.

17. At other times, this wound of love seems to issue from the

inmost depth of the soul; great are the effects of it; and when

our Lord does not inflict it, there is no help for it, whatever

we may do to obtain it; nor can it be avoided when it is His

pleasure to inflict it. The effects of it are those longings

after God, so quick and so fine that they cannot be described and

when the soul sees itself hindered and kept back from entering,

as it desires, on the fruition of God, it conceives a great

loathing for the body, on which it looks as a thick wall which

hinders it from that fruition which it then seems to have entered

upon within itself, and unhindered by the body. It then

comprehends the great evil that has befallen us through the sin

of Adam in robbing us of this liberty. [9]

18. This prayer I had before the raptures and the great

impetuosities I have been speaking of. I forgot to say that

these great impetuosities scarcely ever leave me, except through

a trance or great sweetness in our Lord, whereby He comforts the

soul, and gives it courage to live on for His sake.

19. All this that I speak of cannot be the effect of the

imagination; and I have some reasons for saying this, but it

would be wearisome to enter on them: whether it be good or not is

known to our Lord. The effects thereof, and how it profits the

soul, pass all comprehension, as it seems to me.

20. I see clearly that the Persons are distinct, as I saw it

yesterday when you, my father, were talking to the Father

Provincial; only I saw nothing, and heard nothing, as, my father,

I have already told you. But there is a strange certainty about

it, though the eyes of the soul see nothing; and when the

presence is withdrawn, that withdrawal is felt. How it is, I

know not; but I do know very well that it is not an imagination,

because I cannot reproduce the vision when it is over, even if I

were to perish in the effort; but I have tried to do so. So is

it with all that I have spoken of here, so