My first introduction to the great St. Teresa (beyond the mention she receives in the Divine Office on October 15th each year) was fifteen years ago when I was living in the Baltimore area.

With the Vatican II renewal some Carmelites have moved out from behind the grille, drawing those who join them from the outside to connect with them on the inside at their services. In the last few years as well, they’ve added Zoom meetings on some Saturday afternoons for “Lectio Divina” in which they’d have a scripture scholar offer notes on the (Sunday’s) Gospel and then we would break into smaller discussion groups for the rest of the hour. The sisters would show us a glimpse of their own rooms—as we ourselves would from our own homes.

The Baltimore Carmel includes women who joyfully observe the traditional ways, with the traditional habit and others who connect with the ways of contemporary women and who wear ordinary clothes.  

I would sometimes celebrate a weekday Eucharist in the mornings. It was wonderful to just sit back and listen to their soprano and alto voices as they sing the psalms. They are most always into their prayer! I was sometimes uplifted that I found myself singing in harmony.

Baltimore’s Carmel was founded in 1790 at Port Tobacco in southern Maryland by women from some of the oldest Catholic families in colonial Maryland, so they were celebrating their 225^th year in the United States, alongside St. Teresa’s 500^th in 2014 (when this story was written.)  They remained there tilling a farm, until 1831 when they moved to Baltimore City. The Carmelite sisters, today as ever, dedicate themselves to the contemplative life. They say, “we have been trying to unveil the mystical prayer tradition of Carmel for ourselves and our people. We want people to understand the thirst for God within them.”

I was invited to a special celebration in October 2000.  Sister Patricia Josephine of the Cross is   an example of the vibrant connection this monastery of nuns have with the world. At age 49 she was to make her solemn profession on the feast of St. Teresa of Avila. Pat, as she introduced herself, was the nun who first invited me to the monastery.

Her vocation story is unusual and, I’d say, amazing.  Originally from Pittsburgh, Pat got a degree in engineering from Carnegie-Mellon and a degree in finance from Loyola College in Baltimore. She worked for Baltimore Gas and Electric for 21 years in engineering and management. Some six years ago she left her well-established position. and came to Carmel to live. With such a successful secular career, her vocation to the contemplative life is all the more wonderful.

And what a celebration! The Liturgy of Solemn Profession exemplified her community’s understanding of the call to holiness, the call to a rich contemplative life.

 Before the Mass, the chapel was bursting with adults and children and babies and priests and a bishop. Sister Leah danced the most beautiful prayer, contemplation in visual form.

The homilist spoke of the Gospel reading that was one of St. Teresa’s favorites—the story of the woman at the well. (“Lord, give me this water.”) Carmelites understand this Scripture as Christ’s invitation to drink deeply of the contemplative life. The homilist also spoke of the Cross, which Pat took as part of her new name. Being joined to the Cross is an essential part of her personal spirituality.

 Pat spoke to us after the homily. She said  . . .

“When I give my life to God today, do I really know what that means? Do any of us know what we are getting into? But the examples of fidelity that surround us are profound manifestations of what it means to be faithful. How many here have over 50 years? 40? 30? Mother Celine (so much the center of the life and reverence of the community) has been 74 years a Carmelite. There are nearly 5000 years of committed living represented at this celebration.”

After the homily and during the great Litany of the Saints, Pat lay prostrate on the floor. Then followed the solemn blessing, proclaimed by Sister Colette, the Prioress of the community.

Sister Patricia Josephine of the Cross so easily said Yes to her solemn vows. She said Yes to her order’s invitation to give herself without reservation to God and the church.

It was amazing! Years ago, I could not have spoken my fidelity with such ease and grace; indeed, mine has been a real struggle at times over the years. What an example she has given to me and to us in her enthusiastic response to God!

These women are holy, as so many of us are holy without naming it as such. Unlike those in a cloister, which have their own unique call to holiness from behind the grille, they draw us in! We are brought close to the circle of their community life. As they love and care for each other and are joined together in prayer, the goodness—the grace—of their common life spills over on us. It is clear that we are invited to the circle, but the circle itself is reserved for the community.

They have given me an opportunity to connect with women of our age and time and an opportunity for me to reflect through the eyes of dedicated women on how Christ is responding to the needs of people today, giving me a more comfortable entre into the women’s movement. It is my understanding that they have been true to their holy mother Teresa, a woman of her times, too, and a visionary of how to live a community life. They embrace both the new in the old and the old in the new.

Here are some themes to ponder in this visit to Carmel:

(1) The joy of commitment unto death and fidelity to that commitment.

(2) The role of women in the church, of women who accept the reality and limitations of women’s roles in the church today and find plenty of room to minister.

 (3) The universal call to holiness; that each of us is called to be holy in our own vocation.

(4) The great gift of contemplative prayer in the church and society; that contemplative life is a joyful and blessed and powerful life.

(5) The ability to celebrate our relationship with God, unabashedly, without reservation and with joyful abandon.

(6) And the invitation to young people to hear and respond to God’s call to them to live a life of service in the church and for the world

I close this reflection with a saying of St. Teresa that Sister Patricia Josephine of the Cross had printed on her holy card:

  “Fix your eyes on the Crucified

     and everything will become

 small for you.” — St. Teresa of Avila

So, let’s turn now to look at this wonderful woman who has called so many others to holiness.

A Brief Biography St. Teresa of Avila

By Tejvan Pettinger (biographyonline)

Saint Teresa of Ávila (1515-1582) – Spanish mystic, writer and reformer of the Carmelite order. St Teresa of Avila was an influential and pivotal figure of her generation.

St Teresa (Teresa de Cepeda y Ahumada) was born in Avila, Spain on March 28,1515. Her parents were both pious Catholics and in some ways inspired their daughter to take up a life of prayer. As a young child Teresa showed signs of a deeply religious nature; she would often retreat into silence for prayer and would enjoy giving alms to the poor. She was close to her mother, who provided a warm counterbalance, to the strictness of her father. Teresa’s mother passed away, when she was a teenager. The young St Teresa tells of her despair and how she turned instinctively to the Virgin Mary for comfort.

“I threw myself down in despair before an image of the Mother of God. With many tears, I implored the Holy Virgin to become my mother now. Uttered with the simplicity of a child, this prayer was heard. From that hour on, I never prayed to the Virgin in vain.” (1)

During her later teen years Teresa lost some of her early piety and religious zeal. She recounted how she became interested in worldly matters and enjoyed the company of a wide circle of friends. She had a natural charm and found it easy to make friends. In return she enjoyed the compliments and friendships of others.

However, she was not at peace, considering herself to be a miserable sinner; later she would look back in guilt at her early life. This sense of being a “miserable sinner” was probably the result of a harsh self-judgment, encouraged by her father’s exacting religious standards. When she was 16, her father decided to send Teresa to a convent. This re-ignited in Teresa an interest in following a spiritual life and after some deliberation she resolved to become a nun of the Carmelite Order.  At the time the convent rules were not very strict; it was probably more relaxed than living with her father. At the time the convent accepted many people into the order, often for financial reasons. The convent became overcrowded and people were often judged not on the basis of spiritual intensity but on material possessions. In this climate, Teresa struggled to find time for quiet reflection; although she did start teaching people on the virtues of mental prayer.

Shortly after becoming a nun, Avila experienced a severe illness (malaria), which left her in great pain for a long period. At one point it was feared that her illness was so severe that she would not be able to recover. However, during this period of intense physical pain, she began to increasingly experience divine visions and an inner sense of peace. These inner experiences of joy and peace seemed to transcend the intense physical pain of the body.  She describes in her own words her state of mind during these trials and tribulations.

“I bore these sufferings with great composure, in fact with joy, except at first when the pain was too severe. What followed seemed to hurt less. I was completely surrendered to the will of God even if he intended to burden me like this forever . . . . The other sisters wondered at my God-given patience. Without him I truly could not have borne so much with so much joy.” (2)

When she was a little better, she resumed her prayers with renewed vigor. However, after telling others of her visions and spiritual experiences, she was dissuaded from pursuing them. Certain clergy felt they were just delusions of the devil. As a result, for many years Teresa lost the confidence to pursue her prayers and her spiritual life was almost put on hold. Yet, when Teresa was 41, she met a priest who convinced her to go back to her prayers and implore God to come to her.  Initially, she had some difficulty sitting through prayers. However, in the course of time, she became absorbed in deep contemplation in which she felt an ever-growing sense of oneness with God. At times she felt overwhelmed with divine love.. She was so filled with divine contemplation it is said at times her body would spontaneously levitate. Teresa, however, was not keen on these public displays of “miracles.”             When she felt it happening she would ask other nuns to sit on her to prevent her floating away.

(The Ecstasy of St. Teresa /Bernini / Rome)    Note the arrow in the angel’s hand.)

Teresa was not a just a quiet, placid saint. She had endearing, natural quality; her life energy attracted and inspired many who were close. They admired her for both her outer charm and inner serenity. But at the same time her ecstasies also caused jealousy and suspicion. Unfortunately, she lived at the time  of the Spanish inquisition, and any deviation from orthodox religious experience came under strict observation and scrutiny.

On one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real.

At the age of 43, St Teresa decided she wanted to found a new order recommitting to the values of poverty and simplicity. She wanted to move away from her present convent which made a life of prayer more difficult. Initially her aims were greeted with widespread opposition from within the town of Avila. Yet, with the support of some priests, the opposition waned and she was allowed to set up her first convent. Teresa proved to be an influential leader and founder. She guided the nuns not just through strict disciplines, but also through the power of love and common sense. Her way was not the way of rigid asceticism and self-denial. Although she underwent many tribulations herself, to others she stressed the importance of experiencing God’s love. As she herself says:

“You know, I no longer govern in the way I used to. Love does everything. I am not sure if that is because no one gives me cause to reprove her, or because I have discovered that things go better in that way.”       [p.657] (3)

“The important thing is not to think much but to love much and so do that which best stirs you to love. Love is not great delight but desire to please God in everything.” (1)

Teresa devoted much of the rest of her life to traveling around Spain setting up new convents based according to the ancient monastic traditions.  Her travels and work were not always greeted with enthusiasm; many resented her reforms and the implied criticism of existing religious orders. She often met with criticism including the papal nuncio who used the rather descriptive phrase “a restless disobedient gadabout who has gone about teaching as though she were a professor.”

Teresa also frequently contended with difficult living conditions and her frail health. She never let these obstacles dissuade her from her life’s task. She eventually died on October 4, 1582 at the age of 67.

 (This ends the Pettinger bio.)

Her final illness overtook her on one of her journeys from Burgos to Alba de Tormes. She died in 1582, just as Catholic nations were making the transition from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar which required the removal of the dates October 5–14 from the calendar. She died either before midnight of October4 or early in the morning of October 15, which is celebrated as her feast day. Her last words were:

 “My Lord, it is time to move on. Well then, may your will be done. O my Lord and my Spouse, the hour that I have longed for has come. It is time to meet one another.” (Wikipedia)

HER MYSTICISM

Showing results for her mysticism, in 1622, forty years after her death she was canonized by Pope Gregory XV. The papal honor of Doctor of the Church was bestowed upon her and St. Catherine of Siena by Pope Paul VI in 1970 making them the first women to be awarded the distinction. Teresa is revered as the Doctor of Prayer. The mysticism in her works exerted a formative influence upon many theologians of the following centuries, including St. Francis of Sales.   

The kernel of Teresa’s mystical thought throughout all her writings is the ascent of the soul to God in four stages.

The first, or “mental prayer”, is that of devout contemplation or concentration, the withdrawal of the soul from ordinary thoughts and especially the devout observance of the passion of Christ and penitence (Autobiography 11.20).

The second is the “prayer of quiet”. (Autobiography 14.1).

The “devotion of union” is not only a supernatural, but an essentially ecstatic state.

The fourth is the “devotion of ecstasy or rapture.”

Sense activity ceases; memory and imagination are also absorbed in God or intoxicated. Body and spirit are in the throes of a sweet, happy pain, alternating between a fearful fiery glow, sometimes by such an ecstatic flight that the body is literally lifted into space. The subject awakens from this in tears; it is the climax of mystical experience, producing a trance.  Indeed, she was noted having been observed levitating during Mass on more than one occasion. (Wikipedia)

Teresa is one of the foremost writers on mental prayer and her position among writers on mystical theology is unique. In all her writings on this subject she deals with her personal experiences. Her deep insight and analytical gifts helped her to explain them clearly. Her definition was used in the Catechism of the Catholic Church  . . . .

“Contemplative prayer in my opinion is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.

It was Teresa’s superiors who commanded her to write. But she insisted that she had no learning and who wrote her great work on prayer and the mystical life only because she was directed to do so. In fact, when faced with the immensity of God she called herself “stupid.”

And yet, one day, on the eve of Trinity Sunday, Teresa was granted a magnificent vision.  She had been longing to be shown the beauty of a soul in grace; and she had been asked to write a treatise on prayer by the priests who knew that she was far advance in that knowledge than they themselves. A biographer and friend said, God, “showed her a most beautiful crystal globe, made in the shape of a castle and containing seven mansions, in the seventh innermost of which was the King of Glory, in the greatest splendor, illuminating and beautifying them all.” (Anthony Esolen / Magnificat / Oct.15, 2015. p.209.)

ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

We must not end our notes on our beloved Teresa’s life without mentioning St. John of the Cross (1542- 1591). As part of her original patent, Teresa was given permission to set up two houses for men who wished to adopt the reforms; she convinced John of the Cross and Anthony of Jesus to help with this. They founded the first convent of Discalced Carmelite Brethren in November 1568.

e Mysticism

John of the Cross was also  a reformer of the Carmelite Order and is considered, along with Teresa of Avila as a founder of the Discalced Carmelites (The word “discalced means barefoot or sandaled”). He is also known for his writings. Both his poetry and his studies on the growth of the soul are considered the summit of mystical Spanish literature and one of the peaks of all Spanish literature.

On a late December night, 1577, a group of Carmelites opposed to reform broke into John’s dwelling in Ávila and took him prisoner. John had received an order from some of his superiors, opposed to reform, ordering him to leave Ávila and return to his original house, but John had refused on the basis that his reform work had been approved by the Spanish nuncio, a higher authority than these superiors. The Carmelites therefore took John captive. He was taken from Ávila to the Carmelite monastery in Toledo where he was brought before a court of friars, accused of disobeying the ordinances of Piacenza. He received a punishment of imprisonment and was jailed in the monastery, where he was kept under a brutal regimen that included public lashing before the community at least weekly, and severe isolation in a tiny stifling cell measuring ten by six feet, barely large enough for his body. Except when rarely permitted an oil lamp, he had to stand on a bench to read his breviary by the light through the hole into the adjoining room. He had no change of clothing and a penitential diet of water, bread and scraps of salt fish. During this imprisonment, he composed a great part of his most famous poem, the Spiritual Canticle, as well as a few shorter poems. The friar who guarded his cell would smuggle in the paper he needed. He managed to escape nine months later, on August 15, 1578, through a small window in a room adjoining his cell. (He had managed to pry the cell door off its hinges earlier that day.)

After being nursed back to health, first with Teresa’s nuns in Toledo, and then during six weeks at the Hospital of Santa Cruz, John continued with reform. (Wikipedia)

One evening before Christmas in 2004, I sat in the darkened chapel of the Baltimore Carmelite Monastery where I mentioned, I loved to go. Some of my seventeen sisters were coming in for Mass. The darkness enveloped us like a navy-blue blanket. It was the first time I had been alone in the darkness there. Actually, I had been thinking all day of darkness and light as I wanted to write my Advent/Christmas Arise on “coping with darkness.” The darkened chapel prompted a question—even today—how do we cope with the darkness we are experiencing in our world, our nation and our church in 2015 –and today in October 2022—with the violence we experience in our cities and our politics and our world? 

I went into the monastery sacristy to vest for Mass. (Their stoles match a gorgeous wall-hanging and are full of light — metallic colors and textures of wool and silk, satin and corduroy; I love to wear them. (Many priests take pride in the vestments they wear.) When I came out for Mass the sacred space around the altar, with the choir chairs arranged permanently in a circle, was no longer dark but brilliantly illumined. The lesson the chapel reminded me of was that darkness is sometimes pierced by light. And sometimes light is overshadowed by sinister and sometimes evil darkness. Darkness does not remain in this sacred space nor in our hearts if Jesus resides there.

And, now before you go, here’s the a virtual choir of discalced Carmelite nuns from all over the world celebrating their 500 anniversary of their beloved founder Teresa. Click here. Be sure to turn up your speakers and enter full screen.

Works of St. Teresa of Avila

WORKS OF ST. TERESA OF AVILA

In 1566 she wrote Camino de perfeccion (Way of Perfection) in about 1566, to tell the nuns how to reach their goal.

In 1580 she wrote what is considered her greatest work; the Castillo interior/ Las moradas (Interior castle /The mansions) this involved describing the various stages of spiritual evolution leading to full prayer; she wrote Las Fundaciones (Foundations) from 1573 to 1582, so they would remember the early history of their order.

 Poetry of St. Teresa Avila

Teresa wrote several volumes of poetry her most popular (4)  [p.33] “God is enough.” > >

Let nothing

  upset you,

let nothing

   startle you.

All things pass;

God does not

   change.

Patience wins

All it seeks.

Whoever has God

lacks nothing:

God alone

   is enough.

 God alone

  is enough!

OO

With love,

Bob Traupman 2015 

With Love,

Bob Traupman

Contemplative Writer

Mr. Pettinger’s notes.

Mr. Pettinger is a young economist living in Great Britain who has hundreds of brief biographies on his website of people he believes have changed the world. Check it out!

(1) St Teresa Avila

(2) Our Garden of Carmel – on St Teresa Avila

(3) The letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus; translated and edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa. London, Burns, Oates & Washbourne [1950] (2 v.: xii, 1006 p.)

(4) The complete poetry of St. Teresa of Avila: a bilingual edition / Eric W.Vogt; foreword by Jaime L. Sin. New\

On one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real than ordinary.n one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real than ordinary.n onOn one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real than ordinary.e occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real than ordinary.

On one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends”, and with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. S struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner estasi.

On one occasion Teresa complained to God about her mistreatment from so many different people. God replied to her saying “That is how I always treat my friends” with good humor St Teresa replied, “That must be why you have so few friends”. St Teresa struggled because there were few who could understand or appreciate her inner ecstasies. However, on the one hand, she felt these experiences to be more real than ordinary.At the age of 43, St Teresa decided she wanted to found a new section of her order recommitting to the values of poverty and simplicity. She wanted to move away from her present convent which made a life of prayer more difficult. Teresa proved to be an influential leader and founder. She guided the nuns not just through strict disciplines, but also through the power of love and common sense. Her way was not the way of rigid aseticism and self-denial. Although she underwent many tribulations here, hrs se stressed the importance of experiencing God’s love. As she herself says



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(2) Our Garden of Carmel – on St Teresa Avila

(3) The letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus; translated and edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa. London, Burns, Oates & Washbourne [1950] (2 v.: xii, 1006 p.)

(4) The complete poetry of St. Teresa of Avila: a bilingual edition / Eric W.Vogt; foreword by Jaime L. Sin. New

And, now before you go, here’s the a virtual choir of discalced Carmelite nuns from all over the world

With love,

Bob Traupman 2015 

Contemplative Writer

“I bore these sufferings with great composure, in fact with joy, except at first when the pain was too severe. What followed seemed to hurt less. I was completely surrendered to the will of God even if he intended to burden me like this forever . . . . The other sisters wondered at my God-given patience. Without him I truly could not have borne so much with so much joy.” (2)