Chapter 16 - The Life of Teresa of Jesus - Autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila

The Life of Holy Mother
     Teresa of Jesus


The Life of St. Teresa of Jesus,
of the Order of Our Lady of Carmel.


      CHAPTER 16


- On the third degree of prayer;
- she declares things of an elevated nature;
- what the soul that has come so far can do, and
- the effect of such great graces of God.
- This is calculated to greatly animate the spirit
   to the praise of God, and
- contains advice for those who have reached this point.


- The Third State of Prayer.
   Deep Matters.
- What the Soul Can Do That Has Reached It.
- Effects of the Great Graces of Our Lord.
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      Discussion Topics
          to keep in mind
         as we read along


1). How does St. Teresa describe
        the 3rd Degree of Prayer ?
         [ Life: Ch. 16: # 1,2,3,4,5,6,8,9,13 ]


2). What does she say about
         the Preachers of her time ?
          [ Life: Ch. 16: # 12 ]


3). What does "much of this fire
        ...of the love of God" consist?
        [ Life: Ch. 16: #12 ]
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1. Let us now speak of the third water
      wherewith this garden is watered,--
      water running
            from a river or from a brook,--
      whereby the garden is
       - watered with very much less trouble,
       - although there is some
            in directing the water. [1]


In this state
   - our Lord
      -- will help the gardener, and in such a way
           as to be, as it were,
                           -- the Gardener Himself,
                           -- doing all the work.


It is a
   - sleep of the powers of the soul,
   - which are not wholly lost,
   - nor yet understanding how they are at work.


The pleasure, sweetness, and delight
    are incomparably greater
than in the former state of prayer; and


the reason is,
   that the waters of grace have
risen up to the neck of the soul, so that
   - it can neither advance nor retreat--
   - nor does it know how to do so;
   - it seeks only the fruition of exceeding bliss.


It is like a dying man
   with the candle in his hand,
on the point of dying the death desired.


It is rejoicing in this agony
   with unutterable joy;
to me it seems to be nothing else but
   - a death, as it were,
         to all the things of this world, and
   - a fruition of God.


I know of no other words whereby
  to describe it or to explain it;


neither does the soul then know what to do,-
   - for it knows not
      -- whether to speak or be silent,
      -- whether it should laugh or weep.


It is a glorious folly, a heavenly madness,
    wherein true wisdom is acquired;
and to the soul a kind of fruition
    most full of delight. [2]
     [ Life: Ch. 16: # 1 ]


2. It is now some five or six years, I believe,
      since our Lord
       - raised me to this state of prayer,
          in its fulness, and that
       - more than once,--and
       - I never understood it, and
       - never could explain it; and
       - so I was resolved,
           when I should come thus far in my story,
          to say very little or nothing at all.


I knew well enough that
  - it was not altogether the union
      of all the faculties, and
yet most certainly
  - it was higher than the previous 
       state of prayer;


but I confess that
  I could not determine and
     understand the difference.


3. The humility of your reverence,
         willing to be helped
      by a simplicity so great as mine,
         has been the cause, I believe,
why our Lord, to-day, after Communion,
   - admitted me to this state of prayer,
         without the power of going further, and
   - suggested to me these comparisons, and
   - taught me how to speak of it, and
   - (taught me) of what the soul must do
         therein.


Certainly, I was amazed, and in a moment
  understood it all.


I have often been thus, as it were,
  beside myself,
drunk with love, and
  yet never could understand how it was.


I knew well that
  it was the work of God,
but I never was able to understand
  the manner of His working here;


for, in fact, the faculties are 
   almost all completely in union,
yet not so absorbed 
  that they do not act.


I have been singularly delighted in that
  I have been able to comprehend
the matter at last.


Blessed be our Lord, who has thus consoled me!


4. The faculties of the soul now
  - retain only the power of occupying 
      themselves wholly with God;
  - not one of them ventures to stir,
  - neither can we move one of them
      without making great efforts
    to distract ourselves--and, indeed,
      I do not think we can do it at all
    at this time.


 - Many words are then uttered
      in praise of God--but disorderly,
   unless it be that our Lord
     orders them himself.


At least, the understanding
  is utterly powerless here;
the soul longs to send forth words of praise,
  but it has no control over itself,--
it is in a state of sweet restlessness.


The flowers are already opening;
   they are beginning 
to send forth their fragrance.


5. The soul in this state
        would have all men
      - behold and know of its bliss,
          to the praise of God, and
      - help it to praise Him.


   It would have them
     - to be partakers of its joy;
         for its joy is greater than it can bear.


It seems to me that it is like the woman
  in the Gospel, who would, or used to,
call in her neighbours. [3]


The admirable spirit of David,
  the royal prophet,
must have felt in the same way,
  so it seems to me,
when he played on the harp,
  singing the praises of God.


I have a very great devotion
  to this glorious king; [4] and
I wish all had it,
  particularly those who are sinners
like myself.


6. O my God, what must that soul be
        when it is in this state?


  - It wishes it were all tongue,
      in order that it may praise our Lord.
  - It utters a thousand holy follies,
      striving continually to please Him
     by whom it is thus possessed.


I know one [5]
  who, though she was no poet,
yet composed, without any preparation,
  certain stanzas, full of feeling,
most expressive of her pain:
  they were not the work
of her own understanding;


but, in order to have a greater fruition
  of that bliss
which so sweet a pain occasioned her,
  she complained of it in that way to God.


She was willing to be cut
  in pieces, soul and body,
to show the delight she felt in that pain.


To what torments could she be then exposed,
  that would not be delicious
to endure for her Lord?


She sees clearly that the martyrs
  did little or nothing,
so far as they were concerned,
  when they endured their tortures,
because the soul is well aware
  that its strength is derived
from another source.


7. But what will be its sufferings
        when it returns
        - to the use of the senses,
        - to live in the world, and
        - go back to the anxieties
            and the fashions thereof?


I do not think that I have exaggerated
   in any way,
but rather have fallen short,
   in speaking of that joy,
which our Lord, of His good pleasure,
   gives to the soul in this its exile.


Blessed for ever be Thou, O Lord!
  and may all created things praise Thee for ever!


8. O my King,
seeing that I am now,
  while writing this,
still under the power of this heavenly madness,
  an effect of Thy mercy and goodness,--
and it is a mercy I never deserved,--


grant, I beseech Thee,
   that all those
with whom I may have to converse
   may become mad through Thy love,
or let me converse with none,
   or so order it
that I may have nothing to do in the world,
   or take me away from it.


This Thy servant, O my God,
   is no longer able
to endure sufferings so great as those are
  which she must bear
when she sees herself without Thee


if she must live,
   she seeks no repose in this life,--
and do Thou give her none.


This my soul longs to be free--
  eating is killing it,
and sleep is wearisome;


it sees itself wasting the time of this life
   in comforts, and that
there is no comfort for it now
   but in Thee;


it seems to be living contrary to nature--
   for now, it desires to live not in itself,
but in Thee.


9. O my true Lord and my happiness!
   what a cross hast Thou prepared
for those who attain to this state!--
   light and most heavy at the same time:


- light,
      because sweet;
- heavy,
      because now and then there is
         no patience left to endure it--


      and yet the soul never wishes
         to be delivered from it,
      unless it be that it may come to Thee.


      When the soul remembers
         that it has never served Thee 
             at all, and
      that by living on it
        may do Thee some service,


  - it longs
     -- for a still heavier cross, and
     -- never to die 
           before the end of the world.
     -- Its own repose 
           it counts as nothing
         in comparison with doing
           a slight service to Thee.
     -- It knows not what to desire;
           but it clearly understands
         that it desires nothing else 
           but Thee.


10. O my son, [6] so humble is he to
    whom this writing is directed, and
    who has commanded me to write,
that he suffers himself to be thus addressed,--
you, my father, only must see these things,
   in which I seem to have transgressed
        all bounds;


for no reason can keep me reasonable
   when our Lord draws me out of myself.


Since my communion this morning, [7]
   I do not believe
that I am the person who is speaking;
  I seem to be dreaming the things I see, and
I wish I might never see any but people ill,
  as I am now.


I beseech you, my father,
  let us all be mad, for the love of Him
who for our sakes suffered men
  to say of Him that He was mad. [8]


11. You, my father, say
  that you wish me well.


I wish you would prove it
  by disposing yourself 
so that God
  may bestow this grace upon you;


for I see very few people
  who have not too much sense
for everything they have to do:
  and it may be that I have more
than anybody else.


Your reverence must not allow it;
   you are my father,
for you are my confessor,
  and the person to whom
I have trusted my soul;
  disperse my delusions by telling the truth;
for truths of this sort are very rarely told.


12. I wish we five,
who now love one another in our Lord,
   had made some such arrangement as this:
as others in these times
  have met together in secret [9]
to plot wickedness and heresies
  against His Majesty,
so we might contrive to meet together
  now and then,
in order
  - to undeceive one another,
  - to tell each other wherein we might
     -- improve ourselves, and
     -- be more pleasing unto God;
 for there is no one that knows himself
       as well as he is known of others
   who see him,


   if it be with
   -- eyes of love and the
   -- wish to do him good.


I say; in secret;
  for language of this kind is no longer in use;
even preachers go about
  arranging their sermons
so as to displease no one. [10]


They have a good intention, and
  their work is good;
yet still few amend their lives.


But how is it that they are not many
   who, in consequence of these sermons,
abstain from public sins?


Well, I think it is because
  the preachers are highly sensible men.
They are not burning
  with the great fire of the love of God,
as the Apostles were,
  casting worldly prudence aside;
and so their fire throws out but little heat.


I do not say that their fire
  ought to burn like that of the Apostles,
but I do wish it were a stronger fire
  than I see it is.


Do you, my father, know
wherein much of this fire consists?
  - In the hatred of this life,
  - in the desertion of its honours,
  - in being utterly indifferent
       whether we lose or gain
       anything or everything,
    provided the truth be told and maintained
      for the glory of God;


    for he who is courageously
      in earnest for God,
    looks upon loss or gain indifferently.


I do not say that I am a person of this kind,
   but I wish I was.


13. Oh, grand freedom,
  to regard it as a captivity
     to be obliged
  to live and converse with men
    according to the laws of the world!


It is the gift of our Lord;
   there is not a slave
who would not imperil everything
   that he might escape and return to his country;


and as this is the true road,
   there is no reason why
we should linger;


for we shall never effectually gain
   a treasure so great,
so long as this life is not ended.


May our Lord give us His grace for that end!


You, my father, if it shall seem good to you,
   will tear up what I have written, and
consider it as a letter for yourself alone, and
  forgive me that I have been very bold.


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Notes:
1. "The third degree, or third water,
      of the Saint, must


      - begin, I think, with the prayer
          of infused recollection,


      - include that
          of infused quiet, and


      - end in that
         of inebriation;


  because it is not in our power
      to draw this water--
 all we can do is to direct the stream."


( Francis. de St. Thoma, Medulla Mystica,
   tr. iv. ch. xii. p. 208 ).


2. See St. John of the Cross, Spirit. Canticle,
     stanza xvii. vol. ii. p. 98, Engl. trans.


3. St. Luke xv. 9: "Convocat amicas et vicinas."


4. Foundations, ch. xxix. § 9.


5. The Saint herself (De la Fuente).


6. This was either F. Ybañez
     or the Inquisitor Soto,
    if the expression did not occur
      in the first Life.
    
  F. Dom. Bañes struck out "son,"
     and wrote "father" in its place,
   omitting the words,
    "so humble is he" (De la Fuente).


7. See § 3, above.


8. St. John x. 20:
    "Dæmonium habet et insanit."


9. The Saint refers to the secret meetings
       of heretics in Valladolid,
    under the direction of a fallen priest,
       the Doctor Agostino Cazalla,
    whose vanity led him to imitate Luther.
     (De la Fuente).


10. Father Bañes wrote here
         on the margin of the Saint's MS,
     "Legant prædicatores" (De la Fuente).
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