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God’s Light and Proportion according to Saint Teresa

“The light God grants you from time to time concerning spiritual joys is a special mercy. His Majesty comforts us in proportion to our trials. Since yours are great, so are His favors.”
Saint Teresa of Avila, November 1576.

Father Gracian, to whom Saint Teresa addressed the words above, was a competent and industrious leader. But Teresa wants him to focus on divine mercy, divine love implicated with us in our plight. God gives “light” when we face difficult challenges in His service. Concerned that we persevere when circumstances seem impossible to bear, she knows that the Lord gives us ground to stand on. Everything else in our lives may be completely shaken, but He remains, ever more steadfast for us. Saint Teresa observes that the Lord “comforts us in proportion to our trials.”

We can take this proportion of comfort in trial in two ways.  On one hand, there is a sense of consolation that comes from being productive for the Lord even when we are faced with opposition or difficult circumstances.  Father Gracian was probably familiar with this grace — even as opposition to the reform grew, God continued to do great things through him. The day would come however when all his achievements for the reform would seem undone, even wasted.

We can also consider this “proportion” in terms of our awareness of God’s presence. While all things are passing God never changes. He is always coming to us in wonderful new ways by grace.  Saint Teresa would probably propose this second kind of consolation as the most important.

God never comes in the way we expect Him — He exceeds all expectations. Never passive or aloof, He is always active and personally implicated in our concerns.  When darkness seems to prevail, with dawning brightness, He purifies and expands the soul, opening up new horizons in our hearts, and this with even greater delicacy and power the more intense and frequent our trials.

Without faith, such divine brightness remains unseen. His light exceeds our natural powers, overshadowing them in glory. When, however, we seek His presence dwelling in our hearts and choose to live by His love, He uses all kinds of trails and difficulties only to take us ever deeper into the dwelling He has prepared for us.

This mysterious “light” and this sacred “proportion” help us discover the wonder of our Almighty Father. He waits for us at the intersection of human suffering and divine love — the mystery of the Cross. He is not limited by what is easiest and most comfortable.  He does not confine Himself to the most convenient or successful.  Within the limits of human frailties and needs, lowliness and simplicity, humility and reverence, Saint Teresa knows that His paternal tenderness in limitless glory abides.  

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Saint Teresa of Avila’s Way – on the Quincentennial of her Birth

“When our actions and our words are one, the Lord will unfailingly fulfil our petitions.  He will give us His kingdom and help us by means of supernatural gifts…which the Lord bestows on our feeble efforts.” Teresa of Avila, Way of Perfection, Chapter 37

Today, Saturday, March 28, is a great day of rejoicing for Carmelites everywhere and for the whole Church.   Five hundred years ago the daughter of Alonso Sanchez de Cepeda and Beatriz de Ahumada y Cuevas, in the heart of the Iberian Peninsula, in the province of Avila, in the small town of Gotarrendura, she became a pioneer in the renewal of contemplative prayer that swept through Spain in the 16th Century.  In her work, Way of Perfection, she offers a meditation on the Lord’s Prayer.  For her, this prayer aims towards the heights of mystical contemplation, but starts in the simplicity of a humble petition.

Teresa is convinced that the prayer that Christ commanded us to say demands the same humble movement of faith whether from the simple minded or else the most genius, the most disciplined or the least. Only as the disciplined realize the insufficiency of their own efforts do they glimpse the spiritual logic that she contemplates in this Gospel message. Only as a great mind humbly bows down in wonder can it begin to explore the pathway to perfection that she sees in these seven petitions entrusted to us by the Lord.

The pathway to the progress that she sees in this prayer revealed by the Word of the Father is the way of authenticity, the alignment of what we say with what we do.  We are so out of harmony with ourselves, with each other and with God that only God Himself can bring us back into tune.  She herself knew from first hand experience how His saving intervention comes in the nature of a gift that we welcome by humble efforts informed by living faith. Her encounter with the Man of Sorrows in her convent in Avila helped her understand that this saving gift is the heart piercing realization of how much He loves us, a consuming desire to contemplate the suffering love by which He contemplates us.

She suggests in so many ways that the Lord is never indifferent to even the most tepid efforts of devotion if only we will trust Him and not lose heart.  What starts as a spark becomes a consuming fire.  What seems to take so much effort at first soon washes over the soul like a refreshing rain.  The silken cocoon of good works we make by God’s grace but with great difficulty becomes a transforming place of new spiritual freedom.  She describes a quietness of soul filled with the fulness of God, a sacred stillness exploding like a fountain of living water.  Although bringing the way we live into harmony with those noble intentions the Holy Spirit has stirred in our hearts may seem impossible, she insists every act of devotion exposes us to these splendors of heaven…provided we keep our hearts fixed on His great love.

What amazes me is her confidence in God.  She is acutely aware of human weakness and our capacity for self-deception. She knows how given we are to self-torment.  She is no stranger to the host of irrational anxieties that can assail a soul. She is even more aware, however, of the astonishing immensity of God’s love.

On this great day in the life of the Church, Teresa helps us consider how the Lord permits himself to be bound by our love.  It is love that makes our prayer authentic, God’s love at work in us that brings into harmony what we say and what we do.  If however our efforts to repeat what the Lord has told us to say move in our hearts in even the most subtle of ways, it is only because the Holy Spirit used our frail efforts to blow new life in us.  This is the Kingdom of Heaven that the wisdom of Saint Teresa of Avila sees coming, and today, on the threshold of Holy Week, may we all come to see it too!

For more on this Doctor of the Church, I recently published a book with Dan Burke that provides meditations on a selection of Teresa of Avila’s letters, 30 Days with Teresa of Avila through Emmaus Publishing. 

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Veni, Sancte Spiritus

On the faithful, who adore
And confess you evermore
In your sevenfold gift descend;
Give them virtue’s sure reward;
Give them your salvation, Lord;
Give them joys that never end.

For Pentecost this year, that wonderful publication Magnificat provides a beautiful translation of the Sequence, a prayer offered by the Church during the Liturgy of the Word at Mass.  The prayer asks for the Holy Spirit to come – to come into our inmost depths.  This Gift of the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts is the secret of the Christian life, the vital principle of true prayer.   He comes to dwell in us as in a temple – that is, his living Presence enlivens us as it permeates the sacred sanctuary of our innermost being.  This life-giving Breath of God, creatively hovering over the chaos of our hearts, shines forth with divine glory, the glory by which God is known and loved in the visible concrete particularities of our lives, even in those most difficult situations where He seems absent.  Especially in these moment when we are tempted by great discouragement, when we call out in faith regardless of what we feel or intuit, this exceeding Gift of the Divine Presence overflows the heart so that it cannot help but be lifted up in praise.

The Holy Spirit comes when we ask for Him out of faith in Christ.  This is because Christ Himself is also asking that this same Gift be poured out on us anew.  This happens in such manifold measure, we sometimes forget how remarkable our life of prayer is.  Consider the moment when the priest calls out to the assembly, “Lift up your heart.”  Isn’t it true that we assembled together in prayer by faith and baptism are able to obey this command of Christ because the Holy Spirit is already raising up our humanity above itself?  We may not feel anything and it may seem like the most “non-spiritual” moment – but faith transcends what “seems to be” and what “feels.”  Faith alone receives the Holy Spirit – love imbued faith is a precious gift produced in us by our Advocate and Guide.  Through inspiring ever deeper and more intense movements of faith within us, the Holy Spirit breathes in us so that filled with divine life we are able to utter prayers and petitions which conform in more perfect ways to Christ himself. 

The painful cries of the heart pierced by the love of God, or else moved by the misery which constantly threatens our existence, are joined in the power of the Holy Spirit with the cries echoing in the heart of the Risen Lord.  This is true whether such prayer is offered in inspired words committed to memory or holy stammering gushing from the heart cloaked in adoring silence.  It is true when spontaneous tears overflow and groans break forth from our depths.  Such prayer extends throughout all those deep sighs and bubbling jubilation hidden in Gregorian tones and it lives in even the most simple of hymns sung with childlike confidence in God.

By our baptism in the Waters of New Creation, by the warmth and light of the Fire of God, by the fragrant anointing from above, these inebriated stirrings of our frail humanity are enveloped in the very movements of the Lord’s own heart.  Since Christ risen from the Dead prays in the power of this same Holy Spirit, the possibility of communion is opened in His prayer, a prayer that has already vanquished death and even now overcomes every evil.  The Paraclete communicates the secrets of the Lord’s heart into our own depths sometimes with overpowering forcefulness, sometimes with subtle whispers.  This identification with the Heart of Christ takes place in our hearts especially in those moments when we are pushed to the brink, when we struggle to stand firm at life’s darkest hour.

Here is the secret of the holy audacity we find in the eyes of martyrs and confessors.  The Holy Spirit given by Christ bursts forth with that incredible courage which fills the countenance of those who tread in the dark valley of the shadow of death.  Those without this Gift are astonished and feel a longing to taste the life giving waters flowing from such souls.  Enlivened by such Spirit-filled prayer, what can hold us down?  What can prevent us from raising our hearts to the highest heaven?  Indeed, by the Gift of the Holy Spirit, we are already filled with heaven even as we live on earth.  Under the holy impetus of indwelling Divine Love, all the world is being raised to God – to joys that will never end.

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Friendship with God and Teresa of Avila

Teresa of Avila, in her masterpiece, Interior Castle, after describing all kinds of grades of prayer and mystical experience of the Lord, goes on to say that in addition to all these kinds of union, there is another kind of union with the Lord – a union of wills.  What she is saying is that the Christian life of prayer is suppose to be a life of friendship with God – a real friendship that ought to bring out the very best in us, and a friendship that reveals the very best of God.   She explains that the measure and standard by which we know our prayer is real, that our friendship with the Lord is real, is through our obedience, our readiness to do his will come what come may.   His will is, as described by her, that we love one another, 


“He desires that if you see a Sister who is sick to whom you can bring some relief, you have compassion on her and not worry about losing devotion: and that if she is suffering pain, you also feel it: and that , if necessary, you fast so that she might eat.”  Interior Castle, V:3.11 (translators Rodriguez and Kavanaugh, Washington D.C.: ICS, 1980, p 352).


As noted in the last post, the presence of the Lord in prayer is above all performative, a life of love I must live out not only for his sake, but even for my own sake, if I am to be true to my deepest self.  This means, if we are not to betray the Lord or ourselves or abandon the One who awaits us with love, we must act on what we know the desires of Christ to be – desires that He discloses to his friends in both prayer and daily life.
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Entering into Prayer

For those struggling to pray, one challenge in prayer is entering into silence. It seems the moment one goes into a chapel or room or some other private place, a thousand thoughts and feelings suddenly flow. Sometimes, in fact, it is to find some relief from particularly painful feelings or haunting thoughts that we find ourselves driven to prayer. Whatever the case, it can happen that the psychological activity in terms of thoughts, feelings and memories are so intense that they completely prevent someone from praying. Brooding over injury, feeling sorry for oneself, stirring up anxious thoughts, entertaining one’s self with various visual or emotional fantacies – none of this is prayer. Prayer is interpersonal and it requires leaving all of these efforts behind and searching for Jesus in one’s heart.

If we keep the eyes of the heart fixed on the Lord, all these distractions are quickly left behind. So, Teresa of Avila suggests thinking about a scripture passage or reading the Bible as ways of turning our attention away from distracting thoughts. She also advises thinking about our lives and how Jesus has been present to us. Therese of Lisieux, in her spiritual struggles, identifies with the bride from the Canticle of Canticles and calls out to Jesus, “draw me.” Elisabeth of the Trinity asks Jesus to fixate her on him. Occasionally, even naming the distraction and offering to Jesus is helpful. For example, one might pray, “Lord, this anxiety or injury is distracting me from seeking you. I entrust this to you with all the love of my heart. Have mercy on me and free me from myself so that I can find you. I know you are waiting for me.”

Whatever the method, God’s love is stronger than our self-occupations. If we are confident and determined in prayer, He comes and frees us from distractions. In fact He is coming now, in an eternal act. He is the God who comes. We have every confidence because the abyss of his mercy is much deeper than the abyss of our ego. We can be determined because He is even more determined. Once we have found Him, whatever we had to suffer along the way seems like nothing at all. Most of all, He has confidence in us.

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Teresa of Avila

Teresa of Avila wrote an autobiography (Life or La Vida) which offers powerful descriptions on the life of prayer. I find this work especially suited to those just beginning the spiritual life because it validates so many of those early experiences that one questions at first. The first nine chapters are about her life – up to the time of her conversion. In chapter nine, she speaks about a definitive experience, one that set her in a direction from which there would be no turning back. By this stage of her life, she was a middle aged nun living a mediocre prayer life and motivated a little more by her desire for friendship and to impress others than she was her love of God. On her way to chapel to pray the psalms with her community, she was thinking about this very thing, and felt disturbed by it. That is when “it” happened.

She glanced at a statue and the statue seemed to be staring back at her. She experienced the look of Jesus through the eyes of the statue. The statue itself depicted Jesus as he stood before Pontius Pilate – scourged for our offenses, beaten and mocked in a purple robe and a crown of thorns. She was not looking at her with disappointment or anger – a look she thought she deserved. Instead, he was gazing at her in love. His gaze of love pierced her to the heart and she fell on her knees and began to cry. What she experienced was a gift. The ancients called it “the gift of tears.” It is really a gift of prayer. This experience was so strong she will go on to develop a description of growth in prayer in terms of these kind of tears.

She descibes prayer in terms of watering a garden. The garden is that place in our hearts where we encounter Christ and she explains we must cultivater virtues there so that this encounter will be more beautiful. The water she has in mind is the gift of tears. There are four ways she experienced this gift. For her, each of the ways marked another stage in her growth of prayer.

The first way of prayer she describes in terms of drawing water from a well. One draws this water by thinking about one’s life and the life of Christ. In thinking about the life of Christ, she refers to a practice the Society of Jesus identifies as composition of place – imagining oneself in various scenes from the Scriptures. Honestly looking at one’s life and thinking about Christ for long periods of time (she recommends two hours a day – but thirty minutes is a good start) is hard work, takes determination, perseverance and confidence in the Lord.

The second way of prayer is to use a windlass to pump the water out of the well. This kind of prayer is an awareness of a quieting presence of God in the soul. She calls it Prayer of Quiet. This prayer does not take as much effort. In fact, it cannot be forced because the soul does not do it as much as simply recieve it. Spiritual theologians well say that the difference between the first and the second kinds of prayer is that one is ascetical – a cooperation with God’s grace, while the other is mystical – the operation of God’s grace which the soul can produce but can only sanction.

The other two kinds of prayer are also mystical- intensifications of this quiet experience. They are called the sleep of the faculties and the prayer of union. The former she describes as a canal or river that flows through the soul. This flow is so great that the soul experiences the urge to break forth in praise and jubilation. The prayer of union she likens to a gentle rain storm and it involves the total surrender of one’s will to God.

Seeing prayer in this way is directly related to her experience on the way to chapel. For her there is a primacy of grace. Because the Lord breaks into our lives and pierces our hearts, we find the motivation to be determined in the beginning and to become more and more open as we mature. Her whole teaching on prayer is centered on this encounter, a true encounter with Christ crucified – Risen from the Dead.

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