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TERESA OF
AVILA: A WOMAN FOR THE AGES
By Myrna Grant
Christian women through the centuries have been inspired by
the lives of other believing women. In the small villages of
medieval Europe and Britain, they might have held close to their
hearts the witness of mothers, grandmothers, or holy women in
their own communities. They may have heard tales of women saints
whose lives inspired them with their virtues and sacrifice.
The church has offered extraordinary and often miraculous
stories of women saints and martyrs as encouragements to piety.
For example, Saint Thecla, having spent three days and three
nights listening to the preaching of the Apostle Paul in Iconium,
was converted and persecuted for her faith. The fires of the
stake could not burn her, nor did wild beasts attack her when
she was thrown to them. In the end she fled to a gigantic rock
that opened and hid her. Happier tales surround St. Brigid of
medieval Ireland. She moved a river, raised the dead, and turned
water into beer. Church legend is replete with stories of
countless women whose experiences are, to modern sensibilities,
unbelievable.
However, there are reliable records in the early church of
heroic women who were martyrs, healers, ascetics, and reformers.
Many of the more famous women came from educated strata of
wealth and nobility and spoke for themselves through their own
writings. Others, given to the church as children, were educated
by nuns and monks. The writings of these fascinating nuns,
martyrs, and saints open to us lives that are recognizable and
inspiring in their vulnerability, joys, complexity, and
humanity.
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The writings of these fascinating nuns, martyrs,
and saints open to us lives that are recognizable
and inspiring in their vulnerability, joys,
complexity, and humanity. |
Teresa: The Early Years
One of the most engaging medieval saints is Teresa of Avila.
She was born in 1515 into a prosperous mercantile family during
Spain’s Golden Age. Columbus had sailed to America in 1492,
opening for Spain the riches of the New World. New ideas were
flourishing everywhere. When Teresa was two years old, far to
the north in Germany, Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the
church door in Wittenberg, calling for sweeping reform in the
Catholic Church. Avila, however, was a sleepy and contented
place, with granite city walls that seemed to protect the
Catholic community from the winds of change. But they could not
protect Avila from Teresa.
Teresa’s father, following the tradition of the Spanish upper
class, saw to it that she was taught to read and write as
well as the womanly arts of sewing and spinning in preparation
for her future role as a patrician Spanish matron and mother.
From an early age, Teresa had a lively religious imagination.
Once she convinced her older brother Roderigo to set off with
her to Muslim lands where they could be martyred for Christ. An
uncle found them in a nearby town and returned them to their
parents who certainly were not amused. As Teresa entered
adolescence, she is said to have been beautiful with dark curly
hair, graceful hands, and large, expressive eyes. She loved
pretty clothes and perfumes and had a personal charm that was
irrepressible and winsome. Her lively spirit and sense of humor
brought her many friends.
At sixteen, her romantic antics were so alarming to her
father that he sent her away to a convent school for 2 years.
She was happy in the convent and decided that she vastly
preferred this life to a future of marriage and endless
childbearing that brought so many women to early graves. Her
father had other ideas, however, so to escape marriage plans,
she secretly entered the Carmelite convent in Avila.
The tale is told that as Teresa was hurriedly leaving her
home for the convent, a man appreciatively gazed at her ankles
as she climbed into her carriage. “Take a good look,” she called
out to him, “that’s the last one you’ll get!”
Her father eventually relented and gave the convent her ample
dowry. Teresa took her vows a year later as Sister Teresa of
Jesus. Less than two years later, her story took a strange turn.
She became gravely ill with a deathlike disorder that put her
into a trance-like state. Eventually she recovered but for the
rest of her life, her health remained frail.
The Awakening
Twenty years passed in which Teresa struggled greatly. When
she was ill, she experienced devastating spiritual dryness. When
she was well, she indulged in the easy social life of her
wealthy convent. She had servants, ate very well, and freely
entertained her many friends; all the while, she was tormented
by guilt. When she was 39, she experienced a deep religious
awakening accompanied by visions. Her prayer life was joyful and
for the first time in her life, she had both peace and a great
sense of love.
But as time passed, she became increasingly distressed by the
worldly life of her convent. When the Carmelites had been founded, three hundred years
earlier, the order had been characterized by poverty and prayer.
Teresa decided that Carmelite nuns ought to be confined within
the convent and have no communication with outsiders. Their days
should be spent in solitude and prayer. Unsurprisingly, Teresa’s
sister nuns were startled, appalled, and resistant to reform.
Teresa decided to build a small Carmelite house of her own
which would follow the original intentions of the order. A great
outcry against her arose among the nuns, the local nobility,
town officers, and townspeople who saw her determination to
build a new convent as ambitious and prideful. Nevertheless she
found generous benefactors and achieved her goal. Her nuns
begged for food and labored for their simple needs. Teresa
continued her reform movement and gained support from several
bishops, wealthy donors, and friends, most famously joining with
Saint John of the Cross to found fourteen monasteries for men.
A Spiritual Legacy
As her visions continued, her superiors urged her to write
about them for the edification of the church. She produced a
litany of excuses. It was for learned men to do the writing.
There were more than enough books on prayer and other spiritual
matters. She had neither the health nor the wit for writing. She
had spinning to do. Thankfully for all subsequent Christian
generations, she finally gave in to the admonishments of her
superiors and began to write her first book, an autobiography
called The Life of Teresa. Her next book was composed to give
her nuns further instructions on prayer, and in 1565 she wrote
her masterpiece, Inner Castle, which describes the inner
spiritual struggles of the contemplative life. By the time she
finished writing, she had produced twelve books and hundreds of
letters, all of which were published after her death.
From the small beginning of establishing her own order of
Carmelite nuns, Teresa ignited church reform in Spain. She had
tremendous success in establishing and linking convents
throughout Spain, traveling tirelessly in all weathers, and
braving thieves and rat-infested inns. Yet her wit and humor
remained intact. On one occasion an archbishop invited her to
found a convent, but turned her away, even though she arrived in
the middle of a rainstorm. Commenting on the debacle, Teresa
said, “And the weather so delightful, too.”
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From small beginnings, Teresa ignited church
reform in Spain. |
Despite her frail health and the
church’s opposition to her
reform, Teresa continued to travel and establish convents built
upon her reform until she collapsed on a return journey to Avila
and died at the age of 67. In 1970, Pope Paul V awarded her the
title of Doctor of the Church for her timeless writings on
prayer and her valuable leadership in church reform, one of only
three women in the centuries of the church to be so honored.
Teresa’s contemporaries saw a woman of iron determination,
humility, and honor. “I just laughed at myself,” she wrote,
calling herself “incompetent and unprofitable.” Her inner life
with Jesus, however, as evidenced through her writings, was one
of incomparable sweetness and intimacy, from which her energy
and vision was forged.
“Who are you?” her Beloved asked her one afternoon.
“I am Teresa of Jesus,” she had murmured, “and who are you?”
“I am Jesus—of Teresa,” he answered. |
